The cursed king
by Ardnamurchan
Summary: BOFA SPOILERS ! After the Battle of the Five Armies, Thorin's soul lingers like a ghost on the battlefield, slowly drowning in despair and regrets. But Fate is not done with him. He has still one lesson yet to be learned, a last battle he has to win. A battle against himself. Inspired by Beauty and the Beast. Rated M to be safe. Thorin/OC, Dwalin, Dis, Balin
1. Chapter 1

_**Hello, I'm back with this story that I started writing many months ago... Life went a bit crazy, and now, I thought "why not share it?" :) It's not finished so I do not yet know how it's going to end, but I've got a few chapters written already ... Please read and review !**_

**Genre**: Romance/Angst/Drama

**Rated**: M (to be safe) – fluff, angst and character deaths (BOFA spoilers!)

**Pairings**: Thorin/OC, Dwalin/Dis

**Summary**: After the Battle of the Five Armies, Thorin's soul lingers like a ghost on the battlefield, slowly drowning in despair and regrets. But Fate is not done with him. He has still one lesson yet to be learned, a last battle he has to win. A battle against himself. BOFA SPOILERS! Inspired by Beauty and the Beast.

**Disclaimer** : Everything you recognize belongs either to the genius of Tolkien or to Peter Jackson.

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**Chapter 1: A ghost on the battlefield**

_[The plain laying at the footsteps of the Lonely Mountain, Middle-Earth]_

The sun was finally setting on the bloody battlefield.

Mingled corpses were scattered everywhere, on every bit of land, grass or rock. Some were still twitching, others whining, calling for help, but most were only crying in pain.

Many lay still, mouths gaping, their eyes blank, their souls already gone from their wretched dead bodies.

The battle was won.

But at what cost?

The orcs and goblins had been defeated and driven back into their foul caves, to brood before they would launch another assault on men, dwarves and elves. It was a fight that would never be entirely won.

Evil needed to be defeated every day.

But for the moment, everything was still. Silence was growing on the plain like a plague, only interrupted by the cries of the wounded.

Thorin Oakenshield was dead.

That was something he was sure of.

His soul was floating above the corpses and over his own broken body.

The Exiled King was staring at two young dwarves that lay against each other on the hard ground.

Kili's head rested on Fili's chest, both their faces tainted with blood and dirt.

The brothers of Durin were still together, forever united, even in death.

At the sight, Thorin could feel his heart break into a thousand little pieces of glass, and he wished that each piece would pierce his body over and over, as a punishment for his foolishness.

He had been so selfish, so vain, so proud.

A good thing it was that he was already dead, otherwise Dis would have killed him.

He had failed to protect them, his nephews, his heirs, and launched them into battle, towards death, for the sake of his own ambition and greed.

He was nothing.

He was not fit to be called king, even not fit to be called a dwarf.

If you could die of shame, Thorin would have died a second time that day.

If he was not already dead, he would have killed himself in grief anyway.

The invisible tears of his ghostly figure were falling on his cheeks into nothingness. Thorin had not suspected that someone dead could suffer this much.

He wanted to die for good.

To go straight to Hell, where he belonged.

Were the Gods torturing him by making him watch the disaster and pain he had caused?

He turned his face towards the sky and begged Mahal to erase his soul forever from the world, so that he would no longer see how awful a dwarf he had become before his death.

But Mahal had other plans for the desperate King...

* * *

_[Valinor]_

In the meantime, in a beautiful chamber inside a mountain, a couple was contemplating the aftermath of the Battle of the Five Armies.

"Such a waste…" Yavanna was whispering, her eyes still fixed on the great mirror that showed the bloody battlefield. "All this Quest, all of nothing…" she added sadly.

"Serves him right…"Mahal was grumbling "Greedy, stupid dwarf! Wanted all the treasure for himself, did he? And now he lost everything!"

"Husband!" Yavanna interrupted, turning her soft eyes towards him "Do not speak so harshly of him. Thorin is a broken soul, who has known nothing but grief all his life."

"That I know" Mahal softened and came by his wife, sitting at her side on the stone bench and sighing loudly "But now he's dead and the line of Durin is broken."

"His cousin, Dain, will become King under the Mountain" stated Yavanna "Through him, the line of Durin will endure."

"Aye. But it won't be the same" he nodded angrily "It's not what I had planned… I know now that Thorin would not make a good king. A good leader, yes. A mighty warrior, yes. But the power that comes with a kingdom would have driven him mad, as the treasure almost did."

"What did you had planned, dear?" she asked gently, taking one of his large warm hands into hers.

Mahal stroked her hands thoughtfully, and stared for a moment at the huge mirror. When he finally spoke, his words were steady.

"I wanted Fili to be King." he sighed "Fili would have made a fine king, strong, caring… protective. A fine king indeed. But I guess even us Gods don't always get what we want in the end…"

"That future is gone, indeed" she said, following her husband's gaze to stare again at the fallen warriors.

"I just wanted a different ending for such a great line" Mahal added.

"I know, dear. I know" she nodded sadly. "Dwarves are your children. You wanted them to be happy, and successful, after so much suffering during their exile."

"They didn't deserve to die. It's so unfair!" Mahal said, his voice rising suddenly "My race is already failing. There are so few dwarf-women, and now to see so many of my children slain! Men are growing stronger, elves are slowly leaving Middle-Earth, and dwarves are fading …" he finished, his tone now mingled with grief.

"Is there anything we can do?" she asked, wanting nothing more than to comfort him.

Yavanna had followed with her husband this Company of brave dwarves, one hobbit and a wizard that set out to slay a dragon and reclaim their homeland. She had admired their eagerness, their gentle souls, their companionship.

It was truly heartbreaking to see their Quest end this way. The young and the old, the whole family dying together.

"I don't know…" he answered in a hushed voice.

The couple stayed pressed against each other for a long time, just staring sadly at the mirror. The dead and the wounded were so many, they thought, as the mirror scanned the wide battlefield.

Yavanna turned back to face her husband, but he had closed his eyes, in anger or pain, she did not know.

Probably both.

When she faced the mirror again, she noticed something odd. A pale, ghostly form seemed to be floating above the plain, going from one corpse to another.

"What's this?" she said, getting up to take a closer look.

Upon hearing her exclamation, Mahal opened his eyes and immediately joined her.

"Can you see it?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"Aye … It looks like a ghost…" he said frowning, and he touched the mirror at the spot where the form lay. The mirror immediately zoomed.

"It's Thorin!" exclaimed Yavanna.

"It cannot be…" Mahal gasped. "He looks like a ghost, but he should not be. He should be gone with his nephews to the Higher Halls by now…"

The two gods were completely baffled.

"Oh my… he looks so desperate…" she said in a pained voice "Look, he's crying!"

"Thorin Oakenshield is crying…" whispered Mahal, amazed.

"Of course, he's crying!" she told him defensively "I always told you he had caring heart, and that deserved a happier life! He startled back by her sudden outburst "But what I meant was: he's supposed to be dead. Look, his body lies there broken" he pointed at another spot in the mirror.

"Then, why does his soul linger?" she asked.

"I don't know, but I know someone who does" he answered firmly, reaching for her hand "Come, we are going to see Eru."

And they left the chamber in a hurry.

* * *

_[Valinor – an hour later]_

Mahal and his wife were on their way back to their chambers, both puzzled.

In fact, the God of dwarves was more furious than puzzled.

"Calm down, dear" she said as she struggled to keep up with his fast pace.

"He's dead, but he's not dead"! yelled Mahal "What's kind of an answer is that! I swear he's becoming more elvish by the minute with his cryptic ways!"

"I think what he meant to say, is that Thorin may come back to life" stated Yavanna calmly.

"But how?" he exclaimed, tired of all the mystery.

"I'm thinking of something…" she answered, her face thoughtful and smiling at last "I always thought Thorin deserved some happiness."

"You mean like a second chance?" he asked, intrigued, lowering his pace.

"Aye, but we'll seize this opportunity to teach him a lesson about greed, and about what truly matters in this world."

"I like your way of thinking, dear" he smirked, putting an arm around her waist.

He stopped walking and pressed her against him.

"We'll offer him a second chance to live a second life, only if he's smart enough to make the right choices." she added smiling widely now.

"Like a trial period?"

"Exactly!" she said triumphantly "Leave it all to me, dear. Eru let us decide of his fate, and decide we shall…" she added smugly.

"You shall, you mean" he corrected, smiling at his wife.

"Me, you… does it really matter?" she said, reaching up to bury her small hands in his mane, and kissing his lips with a smug grin.

"No, that's true. It doesn't matter" he answered feebly, already aroused by the feeling of her lips against his skin.

There was no point in trying to think clearly when she was doing that anyway…

_**Please read and review ! :)**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Thank you to all the readers !**_

_**Here's another chapter ... I hope you'll like it. Please review and let me know what you think :)**_

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**Chapter 2: A second chance**

_[Lake Evendim. Eriador. Middle-Earth]_

The wind was blowing on the hills, as the sun was appearing through the curtain of trees in the east. The surface of Lake Evendim gently shook with each stroke of the breeze.

Thorin's body lay on the ground, the grass shimmering all around his still form. Gone were the terrible wounds he had gained at the Battle of the Five Armies. This dwarven body was untouched, clothed only in simple breeches and a light blue shirt.

He was sleeping peacefully, on his back, his dark hair spread all around his face, like a dark halo. The scattered silver hairs in his mane were shining under the growing light.

His eyes were still closed and he was slowly breathing.

And suddenly, there was a growing light in the West, where a woman's form appeared. She stood facing the sun, and walked towards the dwarf, her slender body surrounded by a blurry blue light, mixed with the sun rising.

She came close to Thorin and sat down on the grass, her gaze fixed on the dark lake.

Yavanna waited several minutes for the king to wake, in complete silence.

Thorin's eyes fluttered and he slowly realized that his soul was in his body once more. He could fell the wind on his skin and the ground underneath him.

Had he survived the battle after all?

No, it was not possible. He had seen his own broken dead body, and had begged the Gods to take away his soul as well.

He opened his eyes and slowly sat, gazing at his surroundings.

The woman seated next to him was very beautiful indeed, her dark hair glorious on her green shining gown. She turned to face him and smiled.

He could not return her smile, too stricken was he from his weird situation.

"I think you're going to ask me if you're dead?" she said in a soft voice, her green eyes fixed on him.

He stared at her speechless and could not look away, so deep was her gaze. It was not a normal gaze. This woman was not human, nor dwarf, nor elf. There were no words to describe how beautiful and out of reach she was.

He nodded at her, uncertain.

"You were dead" she said, getting up with grace "Come, walk with me."

Like a puppet, he got up and followed her, as she walked along the shore of the lake.

The sun seemed to be illuminating her body from the inside, making all this very strange and unreal.

"I brought you back to life" she said, as if it were nothing at all.

At this, Thorin found his voice and immediately asked:

"Why did you do it?"

She smiled at his question. It was so like him to be suspicious, to want to understand the reason behind everything.

"Because I can, and because it is what we decided" she simply answered "Your soul was lingering on the battlefield and we realised there was a reason you did not go on."

Thorin sighed and felt the familiar pain grip his chest once more: Fili and Kili were dead, as so many of his kin were. At her words, he remembered his utter despair, his disgust of himself, his will to die completely.

He frowned and his face grew hard, his nails digging into the palms of his fists.

"There is no reason" he stated harshly "I am the one that deserved to die the most."

"Maybe it's true" she admitted "or maybe it's just what you want, because you think it's the easiest way to make the pain go away."

Thorin stood speechless once more at the truth in her words. It's true he wanted to die to not feel anything anymore, to forget everything.

"But you see" she continued with a small, slightly mischievous smile "It would be too easy. We have decided that you deserve a second chance and need to be taught a lesson about the value of life."

Thorin grew angry and a little scared now, even if he would not admit this out loud. But Yavanna knew his heart and soul.

"So I cannot even decide of my own death?" he asked, frowning at her.

"No, you can't" she answered simply "My husband and I know that you have a gentle heart and think that you deserve to be happy before leaving Middle-Earth forever."

She stopped walking and stood in front of him, taking his hands in her. She was taller than him and he had to raise his head to look at her face. His skin was tingling under her fingers, like if he was touching something both hot and cold.

"You are a warrior Thorin Oakenshield" she said firmly "So I will speak to you in terms that you will understand: there is a final battle you need to win, and that is a battle against yourself, against your pride, against your greed."

As she spoke, he stood gaping at her, his legs unsteady. Her words were piercing him, reminding him of his failures.

"You can be a caring dwarf, very protective. You have to learn what truly matters in life, like your nephews' lives …" she went on in a serious tone.

Now, he could not look at her anymore, and he felt his throat going dry.

"I do not deserve this…" he whispered angrily.

"Yes, you do!" she told him, her voice rising "Your first life was not happy. Nothing was spared to you. It was all about loss, hardship and pain. That's why we've decided to take your second life in our own hands."

"How do you know I won't kill myself at the first opportunity?" he asked defiantly.

"You won't" she stated "You're not a coward."

How did she know? How could she know his heart so well?

This woman was certainly a superior being to see so well into people's hearts. They walked more in silence and she led him to a side of the Lake. There stood a big two-floor house, half buried on the side of a high hill, the grey stone covering its shape on all sides.

Its walls and windows were covered with ivy and brambles, adding a mysterious and slightly scary feeling to the place. There was no limit between the bushes on the front garden and the bushes that seemed to be slowly eating the house.

"This is where you will stay, until we decide you can live your second life" And as she said this words, she pointed her hands towards the house, and lights appeared at every window.

She faced him once more and seemed taller all of a sudden.

"I'm Yavanna. If you ever need me, I will know."

He nodded, gaping at the house and at her. She was a Goddess, the wife of Mahal, the father of dwarves. Thorin's throat went dry again.

"Inside this house, here on the shores of Lake Evendim, you will experience despair, rage, loss, and hopefully eventually find yourself. You're on trial period, Thorin Oakenshield. You need to learn to love again: to care and to be cared for."

"Whom shall I take care of in this empty place?" he asked frowning.

"First of all: yourself. And then, someone else, I hope."

"How will I know I'm making any progress?" he asked eagerly. He could not help himself. In a strange impulse, he irresistibly wanted to please her.

Yavanna presented her right hand to him, her palm glowing bright blue. Inside her palm, a ring of silver soon appeared. It was carved with Durin' sign and adorned with a beautiful dark blue sapphire.

She took his hand and put the ring on his finger as she said:

"This ring represents your state of mind. The stone will grow lighter when you allow happiness and love to reach your heart."

Thorin stared sadly at the desperately dark, almost black stone.

"When we decide that you have made enough progress, you will be able to regain your former body and live your second life" she went on, and there was a scary edge in her voice now.

"My former body? What do you mean?" Thorin asked, eyes wide, stepping away from her.

"This is your lesson, Thorin Oakenshield". She said, her voice ringing in his ears like an echo.

He felt his body heat up, burning from an unknown fever, and then pain, insufferable pain running through all his limbs. He crawled to the floor and had to close his eyes. He could feel something grow on all his skin, his face changing, his teeth growing, his hands and feet widening.

When the burning feeling finally ceased, Yavanna was gone and he lay alone on the floor.

Panic stroke him when he stared at his hands: hairy claws, large and frightening.

He run towards the lake and screamed when he first saw his reflection in the water. The goddess had turned him into a monster, half bear, half lion.

A hideous monster.

He did not think he could hate himself more but…now…

Thorin stood on the shore for hours, roaring his rage and despair at the empty hills surrounding him.

For who could ever learn to love a beast?

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_**I wish you all a very Merry Christmas ! Please review :)**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Thank you to all the followers and readers ! :)**_

_**Here's another chapter to introduce the OC. Please, please review and let me know what you think :)**_

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**Chapter 3: The old maid**

_[Freton. Eriador]_

Mylan had lived all her life in the village of Freton, situated a couple of miles north-east of Bree.  
Her father Eron owned the village bakery, to the delight of the local inhabitants, who always feared to lose their local shops.

In their house situated in the middle of the village, the first floor was composed of two bedrooms and a small study.  
Downstairs, there were two large rooms: the shop in the front, and the kitchen at the back where the bread and pastries were made.

Mylan worked at the bakery with her father: he made the bread and she made most of the pastries. They got up very early and spend their days covered in a thin layer of flour. It followed them everywhere.  
Besides baking, Mylan loved to read and take strolls around the village, near the woods.  
But she never ventured very far north. The old road to Fornost and the surroundings of Lake Evendim were dangerous. Freton was the last village before miles and miles of empty land.  
Some said ghosts inhabited the ruins of Fornost. At the thought, Mylan would shudder.

In the village, Eron and his daughter were well-respected people, even if Mylan was considered peculiar and slightly strange. There has always been some bad gossips about her.

Truth was, Mylan was an old maid.

At 26 years old, she had passed the age to be married and had always refused the few proposals she was met with from local young men. After a while, the proposals stopped and everyone assumed that Mylan did not want to marry.  
Some said that it was a good decision because they suspected that she would never be able to carry a child to the world, which was the main purpose of getting married obviously.

Another important fact about Mylan, was that she was small.

Her father was a short man, almost as round as he was tall. And her mother had been a short woman as well.  
When she was little, some other children used to say her mother was in fact a dwarf or a hobbit and would make fun of her.  
It was not true of course, but it hurt all the same, especially because Mylan had no memory of her mother, as she had died giving birth to her.  
Eron had been devastated and had never married. He had raised his only daughter, and sometimes looked at her with a pained expression.  
Her features were so like her mother's.

Mylan had red brownish hair, and warm brown eyes. Her face was soft, as her soul was gentle. She had pale round lips but sometimes she would blush and the pink glowing in her cheeks made her look very lovely.  
Her hands, feet and limbs were small, but she had some roundness around her belly and tights. Like her father, she liked eating the pastries as much as she liked making them.  
She was not an unhappy young woman, but was often thoughtful and dreamy, and sometimes sad. She carried upon her the regret of never knowing her mother and the guilt of being the cause of her death, but of that, she would never speak of.

Today was Sunday. The bakery was closed and it was her day off.  
Mylan got up slightly later than usual, but still the sun had not shown itself yet. She dressed in her plain brown dress and blue apron and went downstairs to make breakfast before her father awoke.  
She was used to getting up early to work, and she liked the quietness of the end of night.  
She looked outside the window: the sky was clear and the stars were shining bright. It would be a beautiful spring day.

Mylan started to make pancakes as the sunlight gradually filled the kitchen from the eastern window. She added dried grapes inside the dough and some ale.  
In the backyard garden of the house, there was a small iron table and two chairs.  
She set up the table outside and started to make some tea, when she heard noise upstairs and her father coming down.

"Still up early, I see" he said smiling as he stretched his still sleepy limbs.

Mylan smiled at him and handed him the pot of tea.

She took the breakfast tray and said "Come, let's have breakfast outside. It's a beautiful morning."  
They ate breakfast in silence.

Mylan's gaze was lost, as she stared at the woods and high hills in the East. Beyond the hills was Lake Evendim, and beyond the Blue Mountains, and finally the sea.  
Mylan had not the wish, nor the bravery to undertake the journey, but she still wondered how the lake and the sea would look like. Not on pictures, but how they would look like through her own eyes.

"Are you alright, dear?" asked her father gently.

"Aye. I'm fine" she answered automatically, smiling at him.

If there was something that she wanted above all things, it was for her father to be happy. She wanted to be a comfort, not a worry.  
But sometimes, she wanted more than her small village life.

* * *

_[Evendim Manor. Eriador]_

After spending some days in rage and brooding, Thorin finally started to clean up the Manor.  
There was nothing else to do anyway.  
Inside was an unspeakable mess of furniture (some were broken), of dust and an awful stuffy smell. He opened all the windows, tearing off the rambles from their frames.  
Every day he was cleaning, tidying, fixing, room after room.

He was completely alone. The area around the Manor and even all around the Lake seemed completely deserted.  
He went hunting in the woods for fresh meat and survived on some potatoes and cabbages that grew wildly in the garden, remains of old plantations no doubt.  
Unfortunately, Thorin had never been very good with the bow.  
That had been Kili's forte.  
Just thinking about him brought tears in his eyes. So he often let them run their course on his hairy cheeks. There was nobody here to see him cry anyway.  
Giving up on the bow, he soon realized that he did not need any weapon to hunt. The speed of his body and his sharp claws were enough. He usually caught some rabbits, and even sometimes a deer.

Weeks went by. Spring turned into summer, and finally the leaves turned auburn and started to fall.  
Often, Thorin would run at the top of the highest hill around the Lake. Climbing on a high branch on a great oak, he would stare far away, south and west, at the small settlements of men and hobbits. He could imagine the smoke rising from the chimneys.  
It was the world of the living and he was trapped here, maybe forever, or until the Gods decided to allow him to die eventually.

One evening, as he had finished cleaning up one of the four bedrooms on the second floor, he found a mirror on the old carpet. He picked it up and, not looking inside it, threw it out of the window, where it shattered in the garden into a thousand pieces.  
He did not need to see that he was a monster, he knew it.  
He was bound to stay here, desperate at the loss of his nephews, out of reach from his friends and sister who were still alive, too ashamed to face them, cast out from the world, punished for his sins.

In the Manor, there was no gold, no jewels, no Arkenstone to drive him insane. But the memory of his greed and madness he carried everyday like a curse.  
The appeal of the riches of Erebor seemed so foolish now.  
He suspected that Dain was King under the Mountain now, and it did not matter anymore to him.  
Thorin had only his regrets to keep him company in his hatred of himself.

And the ring on his finger remained desperately dark and cold.

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_**Reviews are the comfort of the fanfiction writer's life ... ;)**_


	4. Chapter 4

**_Thank you sooooo much for the reviews, and hugs to all the readers ! :)_**

**_Here's a new chapter that introduces the second part of the story that takes place in the Blue Mountains. After seeing BOFA (twice), I am very frustrated to not know what happens to the rest of the Company, so I tried to imagine this ..._**

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**Chapter 4: Inside the Blue Mountains**

_[Blue Mountains. Eriador]_

Dis's bedroom in the Blue Mountains had not seen light for weeks now.

The only light was that of a small candle on her bedside table. There was no light enough to eat, no light enough to dress and it was the way she wanted it.

She stayed in her bed for hours or sat in an armchair near the chimney.

Her skin was white, her body thin and she did not speak unless she had to. She didn't want to see anyone.

Since the arrival of the news of her sons' deaths at the Battle of the Five Armies, nothing mattered anymore. Her brother had died as well and she was not even angry at him for not protecting his nephews.

She just grieved for the loss of the last three members of her family, her flesh and bone, her kin, every single one of them killed in the last hundred years: her grandfather, her mother, her father, her youngest brother, her husband, her sons, her eldest brother.

For the last days, her limbs were shaking more frequently with the lack of strength. Dis had become so frail.

She was just waiting to fade, waiting for the relief to join the Higher Halls at last.

Four months after the end of the battle, the sons of Fundin, along with the Ur brothers, finally arrived in the Blue Mountains, tired of their travels, and anxious to see their families and the Princess Dis.

Dwalin and Balin were sent by Dain, the new King of Erebor, to bring Dis to live back in the Lonely Mountain, as was expected by everyone.

Dwalin had always been the closest to Dis, had always admired her from afar, and protected her as her brothers did.

When the tall tattooed warrior arrived at the Royal Chambers, Dis' maid face was dark.

"She has not come out of her bedroom for days now, master Dwalin" she stated. "She barely eats, won't speak to anyone. She says everyone here is a stranger to her and that no one understands her grief."

Dwalin frowned and put down his heavy cloak on the hangers, sighing.

Of course, Dis was broken with despair. He had suspected as much, hence his hurry to go back to the Blue Mountains just after Kili and Fili's funeral.

All of Dis' family and close friends had gone on the Quest. She had been alone when receiving the terrible news. He felt really bad about it.

And he had yet another strange fact to report to her.

But this time, he vowed that he would stay by her side. Wherever she went, Dwalin would stay at Dis' side.

During the Quest, he had realized how hard it was to not see her every day.

Dwalin, son of Fundin, was not a dwarf of many words. But this time, he would act.

He entered the dark bedroom carrying another much needed candle.

He could barely see the furniture, the only light coming from the candle on the bedside table.

"Who's there?" cried Dis in a feeble voice, struggling to discern the wide shape in the darkness "I said I didn't want to be disturbed!"

"Dis? It's me, Dwalin" he told her in his most gentle rumbling voice.

And then Dis lost it.

It was too much. Months and months of grief with no friendly face, and suddenly he was there.

She threw herself out of bed and, still clad in her nightclothes, ran to fiercely embrace his tall body.

Dwalin was surprised by her swift movement but immediately put his arms on her small back and thin waist, embracing her back.

The feeling of holding her in his arms was amazing, and Dwalin would have been in heaven if the situation was not so sad.

Her hair and side-beard smelled of smoke and ashes from standing many hours near the fireplace.

Dis was uncontrollably sobbing in Dwalin's chest now, trembling all over.

He carried her back to the bed and sat there, still holding her in his large arms. He stroked her back trying to soothe her a little.

"Dwalin, I'm so glad you're here" she whispered through sobs. "I've missed you so."

At her words, a crazy feeling of happiness filled him and for the first in forever, he dared hope to live more than a lonely warrior's life.

They sat talking quietly for hours, and Dis finally regained her composure.

He felt it was the right time to tell her.

"Dis. I have to tell you… We did not find Thorin's body." he stated darkly.

She stared at him, her blue eyes wide, and frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"We searched for days and days and never found his body. Dain declared him dead and it's almost sure that he is. There were so many corpses on the battlefield…" he added, his eyes haunted.

"So he's not buried with my …" Dis had trouble speaking. She took a deep breath and looked at Dwalin's soft eyes "with my sons?" she finished.

"No he isn't. Dain put his name on the royal grave though" said Dwalin, frowning.

Dain had been eager to proclaim himself king and to declare Thorin dead. Not many knew that the body of the Exiled king had never been found.

"Well, it does not matter anymore." said Dis "He surely is dead, otherwise he would have already come back to us."

Dis sighed and put a small hand on Dwalin's joined ones.

"Is Balin with you?" she asked.

"Yes, he's at our house. The Ur Brothers made the journey back with us as well."

"I would be happy to see them again" she said, with the first small smile since months. "But you must be terribly tired after your journey and I keep asking questions!" she exclaimed.

"I'm alright. I came straight after our arrival" he confessed, nervous.

"And I'm glad you did" she told him.

"Dis…" he started, uncomfortable "Dain wants me to tell you that he's expecting you to come and live in Erebor."

Dis frowned and though about it for a few seconds. It seemed really stupid and pointless to her now to want to go back to the Lonely Mountain.

"Well, you can tell him thanks, but no" she said firmly.

Dwalin was surprised at the strength of her swift refusal, and raised an eyebrow.

"Why would I want to live in this cursed Mountain that has taken all that was dear to me?" she explained, slightly trembling with emotion "Am I to be the grieving princess that visits graves every day?! My sons and brother were very much alive when last I saw them, and that how I want to remember them, thank you very much" she added, her voice rising.

Dwalin nodded. He understood her position. Of course, why would she go back to a place she had barely known to live amongst distant cousins?

Dis sat closer to Dwalin and put her head on his shoulder, weary by the emotions of the day.

"There is nothing for me in Erebor, Dwalin, only death" she stated.

He put an arm around her waist and pressed her against him.

Dis had never been so physically closed to him. Before the Quest, she had hugged or kissed him on the cheek a few times, but never had she behaved in such a familiar way.

And it made Dwalin's heart jump with delight and desire.

She soon fell asleep and he put her small body back under the covers, before leaving to get some rest himself.

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_**The review is like the sun and quiet on a afternoon of fanfiction writing ... ;)**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you soooo much to all the reviewers and the readers ! :)**

**This story is going to jump from Ered Luin to Evendim Lake and so on, so that we can follow Thorin's fate as well as what happens to the Company after the Quest.**

**In this chapter, some action ! As usual : read an review ! :)**

**Disclaimer : I own nothing. Tolkien is the genius, as well as Peter Jackson ;)**

* * *

**Chapter 5: Wolves and snow**

_[North Road. Between Bree and Freton. Eriador]_

It had been a terrible idea.

The wind was blowing like mad on the north road, and the snow was quickly covering every rock, grass and miserable travelers.

Mylan had left Freton early in the morning, with the butcher's son, to fetch some sugar in Bree. Her father did not want her to go, as the weather was cold and the wind harsh. But when Frey, the butcher' son had said that he had to go to Bree as well, he allowed his daughter to complete this errand. She would not be alone on the road and the journey was short, he had reassured himself.

Mylan had no more sugar for her pastries and Bree was just at half a day's ride from her village. She could not remain idle, and they needed to keep making the pastries as they paid better than bread.

It was the end of November. For a fortnight, the weather had been very cold and windy, sooner than anyone had expected.

When they had reached Bree just before midday, the snow started to fall in heavy curtains.

Frey then decided to stay at some relatives in the city, and not brave the difficult journey back to Freton on the same day. He did not bother with Mylan, nor wondered what she would do.

Mylan couldn't stay in Bree for the night to wait for the snow to stop falling. She had no relations in Bree and not enough money to stay at the inn. Most of all, her father would be worried out of his mind if she did not return before dusk.

So, she foolishly decided to make the journey back to Freton alone.

It would be okay, she told herself. She had done it before... in the summer.

The wind and snow were blinding her, freezing her skin as they got through her clothes. Her bonnet threatened to be swept away at any minute. Her pony had trouble walking and it would often stumble on the fresh snow.

Her progress was very slow, and she had been travelling for four hours when she arrived at the great bear-shaped stone. It was a landmark that indicated that she was halfway to Freton.

She still had half the journey to make and needed to hurry because the day was growing dark already.

She rode slowly through the wind and snow that would not quiet down. She was utterly alone on the road and night eventually fell.

Mylan felt the fear of never reaching Freton grasp her suddenly.

And when she thought her situation could not get worse, she heard a noise behind her, like a growl coming from the side of the road.

On her left.

A growl, and then another one.

On her right.

She did not see the wolves but heard them, as her pony. The poor beast took fear and started to gallop in a rush, seized by a crazy fear.

The pony swiftly left the road and rode hard east, trying to escape the wolves, stumbling on bits of dirt through the wild.

Mylan was clasping the reins, her knuckles white, filled with panic as she kept hearing the wolves growl on either side of her legs.

She still could not see them but heard a frightening loud howl on her left and closed her eyes, praying. She screamed at her pony to go faster.

The usually quiet best had never been so quick, as if wings had grown on its clogs.

Mylan galloped for what seemed to her a long time, before the growls and howls of wolves completely disappeared. Her pony finally slowed it pace, breathing loudly, and she looked at her surroundings.

She was in the wild, in the dark, probably west of Freton and north of the Shire, completely lost.

Ahead, she could see the faint shapes of some hills.

She felt exhausted, scared and frozen to the bone. Her cape had been swept away by the wind during her rushed flight from the wolves.

It must have been near midnight when she fell unconscious, her chest and face resting on the mane of her pony, trembling with cold.

* * *

_[Valinor]_

Yavanna stood in front of her mirror, concentrating on leading Mylan's pony near the shore of Lake Evendim.

Mahal got into the room and stared at the mirror and his wife.

"What are you doing now to this poor girl?" he asked frowning.

"You'll see" she answered smiling mischievously "I made her think that she was chased by wolves so that she would get off the road, and now she's very near the Manor!"

Yvanna seemed really proud of herself and grinned.

"She's the key to his second life" she added happily, proud with her meddling.

"If he doesn't eat her first, that is." Mahal pointed out, smirking.

She frowned at him.

"Of course, he won't. He just looks like a beast, but he is entirely himself."

"And we know, of course, that Thorin is such a gentle and caring dwarf…" added Mahal ironically.

"Don't you want to help me?" she huffed, angry now "I thought you agreed with my plans for him."

"Of course, I do, dear" he quickly told her, putting his arms around her waist "I think you've been doing great so far."

"Aye. Now, I will wake him" she said and focused once more on her mirror.

* * *

_[Evendim Manor. Eriador]_

Thorin didn't know what woke him, but he felt restless, like he had experienced a bad dream. It would not be the first sleepless night since he had been sent to this place.

He got out of bed and looked outside the window.

The snow had stopped falling and all around the house was white, shining under the light of the moon.

Then, near the lake shore, he noticed the shape of a horse, or a pony walking slowly. It seemed to be carrying something or someone.

He stared at it for a couple of minutes, and something seemed to fall from its back on the grass.

That shook him from his drowsy state.

Thorin had not realized until this moment how much he missed talking with someone. He had always been quite solitary, but being trapped alone in this Manor for months was suffocating some times.

He put a cloak on his back and got downstairs in a hurry.

When he arrived at the front door, he froze at the door handle.

He was a hideous beast. Whoever the fallen person was, he would frighten him to death.

But Thorin was also a noble soul, who would never turn his back to someone in need of help. Mahal knew he had been utterly abandoned by his allies in the past, he remembered bitterly.

He got out of the house and walked quickly, but quietly, to the shore.

The fallen person was a young woman of petite height.

She was clothed in a simple brown dress and worn leather boots. She had no cloak and her hair seemed wet, probably from the earlier snow.

She lay completely unconscious on the ground, her lips pale.

Her state was worrying, but at the same time it was a good thing that she could not see him.

He gathered her small form in his powerful arms and led her towards the house, his feet crunching the fresh snow.

Thorin took her to one of the guest rooms on the first floor, a small one, where the bed was placed very near the fireplace.

He put her on the bed and buried her frail body under the heavy blankets.

Then he lighted a roaring fire to warm the room quickly.

After some minutes, some color was returning to the woman's cheeks and he was relieved. What was she doing all alone, so far away from human settlements, in the supposed haunted area of the Lake?

Maybe she got lost.

Maybe she was led to him… Thorin frowned at the idea.

As much as he respected them, he did not like the thought of being a complete puppet for the Gods.

He stood in the room for some hours, crouched in an armchair, shielded in the darkness.

He could not go back to sleep now.

The woman in the bed was short and had red-brown hair that shone under the firelight. Her cheeks were round and her ears small.

She was definitely a woman, not a dwarf, not a hobbit, nor an elf.

Thorin surprised himself to be eager to know the color of her eyes. They were closed at the moment, you see.

On the other hand, he feared to see fear and disgust in her eyes, which would no doubt happen the second she laid eyes on his hideous appearance.

It would be difficult to help her without her seeing him, he thought.

He sighed, and went down to the kitchen to prepare some porridge for when she woke up. He had led her pony and tied it to a tree outside the front garden.

Her pony had been carrying a few belongings and surprisingly, two bags of sugar.

A delight of which he had quite forgotten the taste.

The sun was getting up, slowly and Thorin was feeling strange, almost glad to have someone else than himself to care for.

He felt lighter and happy to have a reason to be distracted from his dark thoughts.

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**_Reviews make the rain stop falling ... :) Yes they do ;)_**


	6. Chapter 6

_**A very happy new year to all ! lots of love and joy for 2015 ! :)**_

_**Here's the next chapter of the story ! As usual, read and please review :)**_

_**Disclaimer : I own nothing. Tolkien and Peter Jackson own it all.**_

* * *

**Chapter 6: Recovery**

_[Evendim Manor. Eriador]_

Mylan woke up with difficulty in a bed that was not her own.

She felt numb and feeble all over her body, her limbs like heavy hindrances that kept her pinned underneath the comfortable blankets.

It was morning. She could tell by the harsh winter sunlight that came from the window on her left.

She breathed and looked at her surroundings.

She lay in a big four posters bed in a bedroom with a fireplace on the right, beyond the bedside table. On the other side of the room, there was a small wooden desk and a chair.

Mylan was completely buried inside the warm bed, deep down inside the mattress, and several blankets were piled up her small body so high she had to raise her head to examine the bedroom.

Then the memories of the past night came back to her.

She had been attacked by wolves and had to leave the road back to Freton. She had ridden hard for hours, awfully frightened, and then she had lost her way in the wild, the snow falling making everything unfamiliar and scary.

She must have passed out of exhaustion, she thought, and someone had found her, taken care of her.

This made Mylan think: besides her father, no one had ever taken care of her. It was often the other way around: she took care of people, but did not want them to worry over her. Not many did anyway.

Judging by the state of the well-furnished bedroom, her savior must be someone wealthy, well… wealthier then her father was, which was quite easy.

She wanted to get up, but she felt so good under the warm blankets and her head was still dizzy. She had not eaten anything since her light lunch the day before and her stomach grumbled.

From the window, she could see high hills that looked like those she could see when she looked east from her house in Freton.

And when she raised her head above her pillow, she saw a beautiful lake. Its shores were white with snow and its surface shimmered under the strokes of the winter's wind.

It must be Lake Evendim! It was the farthest she had ever been from home. Her father must been insane with worry. At the thought, she tried to get up but her head started spinning and she fell back on the pillow, whining.

She heard rushed footsteps coming from outside the bedroom, climbing up stairs.

"Is everything alright in there?" a low male rumbling voice asked from the hallway.

The bedroom door then opened, just by an inch.

Mylan's head had stopped spinning and she was breathing heavily now, her eyes closed.

"Yes, my head was spinning…" she answered faintly.

"Is there…" the low voice hesitated "Is there anything I can get you?"

Mylan smiled. This man was definitely very nice to her.

"Something to eat would be nice" she said "You can come inside" she added, uncertain as to why he was staying outside the room.

Thorin froze, his large hairy hand/paw still gripping the handle. A large black cloak was covering his entire body, but not all his face and not his hands.

"I'd rather not" he told her gruffly.

"Why?" she immediately asked "I would like to see to whom I'm indebted to."

Mylan was curious and forward at this moment. It was not usual for her to behave so. She was more the quiet reserved type, but finding herself in an unknown house under the care of an unknown man who would not show himself, she was a little scared as well.

She felt helpless all of a sudden.

"Because, it's the way I want it!" he answered her harshly, his tone final.

There was a short tense silence and he added "I'll bring you some porridge and milk." Mylan could hear him going down the stairs again. She stared at the ceiling of her four posters bed and sighed.

A few minutes later, she could his heavy footsteps again. Very large gloved hands placed a steaming bowl and mug on a stool just on the side of the door.

She stared as the hands disappeared quickly.

He left the door opened by an inch, but did not leave. She could faintly hear him breathe.

Mylan could smell the delicious porridge and her stomach grumbled. She put a small and white foot from underneath the blankets and noticed the bandage when her foot touched the rug.

"What happened to my ankle?" she wondered out loud.

"You scratched it when you feel off your pony"" he said "It's not broken" he added, his tone slightly uncertain "I took the liberty to check it. I hope you do not mind…"

"Of course not. Thanks you for taking care of it" she said, finding herself smiling at the bedroom door.

His manners were those of a gentleman, and she could tell, by the way he expressed himself, that he was no peasant.

She walked slowly to the door, but did not take the bowl and mug from the stool immediately. Instead, she put her back to the door and breathed, imagining him doing the same.

Mylan was a simple girl, to whom nothing unexpected ever happened. Her current situation was thrilling, frightening and exciting at the same time.

"I'll leave to your meal then" he added, leaving her once more.

"Thank you" she called after him.

After eating, Mylan was very tired again. She fell back to sleep, and when she woke up in the middle of the afternoon, she was still alone, the light from the windows slowly fading in this short day of winter.

Without the stranger's presence to distract her, she was very anxious, especially for her father. He would be insane with worry by now, his daughter never coming back from her errand in Bree the day before. No one would know where she was. Would the stranger help her return to her village?

Will she ever go back home? She felt tears fill up her brown eyes and walked up to the window to stare at the darkening front garden. She felt so helpless and lost, so much like the plain little baker's daughter she was.

Suddenly, she heard him come again to her door.

"You're awake" he said. It was not a question.

"Yes. Thank you for taking care of me" she said "I got lost in the snow storm last night" she explained, as if he did not already know.

"I know" he said "I found you on the shore of the Lake, almost completely frozen."

"I was chased by wolves and had to leave the road" she said, explaining herself again. "I was going back home from Bree, but they chased me and…" she breathed hard, remembering how deeply scared she had been.

"There are no wolves in these parts. I've searched the area myself many times" he commented frowning, thinking that, in his loneliness of the past few months, there had been nothing else to do.

"But I could hear them at my heels, growling …" she answered, confused. She had been so certain they were wolves.

"Anyway, you're safe here" he said, and even if his tone remained gruff, she could tell he wanted to comfort her somehow.

There was a silence between them.

"My name is Mylan" she said.

He did not answer.

"Will you not give me your name?" she asked gently "Sir…"

She heard him sigh loudly.

"I have none" he said eventually "Not anymore"

Mylan was surprised at his tone. He spoke with disgust in his own voice, and it seemed that this disgust was turned towards himself. Maybe he was a more tortured soul than she would have guessed at first.

Her small fingers gripped the door and he could see the tips of them, her nails shining under the light of the candle he was carrying. She seemed so frail and soft. Thorin was disturbed to stand so close to this young woman, having spent so many months alone, with no one to talk to.

"May I give you one, then?" she offered gently.

He was startled by her offer. That young woman had some spirit, he could tell.

"If you wish…" he answered uncertain.

"Then, I'm glad" she said smiling "Will you help me get back to my village in Freton? My father is surely very worried by now" she asked quickly.

"Your pony is in the garden" he answered, taking care to keep his tone neutral "I will guide you in the right direction in the morning. It's about half a day's ride from here."

"Thank you" she smiled, even if he could not see it.

She would leave, of course, he realized. She probably had a family, friends, surely a husband to come home to. And he would remain alone in this cursed house.

A kingdom of isolation, that's all he deserved anyway.

Mylan looked at the window and night had indeed fallen. It would be safer and easier to make the journey back to Freton on the morrow. What an extraordinary adventure she would have lived!

A part of her did not want it to end so quickly. How bland her everyday life will be compared to that.

For the first time in her life, she wanted to let it go, to experience something different.

"So, you live alone in this big house?" she asked, curious.

Her questions were forward and it was refreshing, he had to admit.

"I do"

Thorin was not a dwarf of many words. She could tell he was uncomfortable talking about himself, so Mylan did most of the talking.

"I live with my father. He's the baker in Freton and I make the pastries. It's a quiet life really…"

They spend an hour like that, both seated with their backs on their side of the door. Thorin just listened to her sweet voice, as she told him about her life, and all the little things that characterized it.

Mylan felt that talking was the only way to get closer to her rescuer, which she was dying to see, and whose voice filled her with a warm, strange and tingling sensation.

She felt her eyes growing heavy, when he said: "You should sleep now, gather your strength for tomorrow's journey."

And now she could hear the almost sad edge in his voice.

She nodded and got up to snuggle back in the warm bed.

He turned to leave her to rest, but could not help himself and asked:

"Mylan?…What is my name?"

"That is my secret, for now" she answered, her voice full of sleep already.

"Why?"

"Because it's how I see you…in a way"

Thorin stopped breathing at her honest and touching statement.

Tomorrow, she would leave, and his main regret would be to never have seen the color of her eyes. Another regret to add to the list.

* * *

_**The review is the cherry on top of every cake ! ;)**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Thank you so much for the reviews and to all the readers !**_

_**Here another chapter, back in the Blue Mountains and then at Lake Evendim. Please read and review ! It's really important for me to know what you think :)**_

* * *

**Chapter 7: Where is the real life?**

_[Blue Mountains. Eriador]_

It was nice to finally get some fresh air, she thought, as she rode with her maid the two miles that separated them from the nearest village. Two guards rode behind them. The Princess of Durin could not be allowed to wander on her own, especially since some orcs had been seen at the northern border of the Blue Mountains.

It was a simple errand: she was riding to the nearest market to buy some new sheets, some honey and fish…

The sun was high in the sky and the snow had melted somehow on the borders of the road.

Again, Dis found herself wondering about her brother. His body had never been found… It was hard to think about what could have happened to him: had he been captured by orcs or goblins to be tortured and then put to death through awful sufferings? Was his body lost among the many deads of the bloody battle? Was he too disfigured to be recognized and was then buried in some mass grave away from his own kin?

Dis' heart clenched at all those possibilities. Each one of them led her to the conclusion that Thorin was dead.

She thought that if he was still alive, he would have come back to them by now. The Thorin she knew would have reclaimed his throne in Erebor and let no one rule in his stead.

She didn't want to hope, she didn't want to think just for a minute that he could be alive… She didn't want to start elaborating some crazy explanations about how he could have survived ... It would be too painful to be disappointed again.

No. Thorin was dead, along with her sons and all her family.

Dis still had difficulty to imagine, through her pain, how the following years of her life would be like. Would she be always like this? Grieving, never forgetting? Never letting go of her pain?

The only moments where she felt less sad was when she was with her friends: Balin, the Ur Brothers, and especially Linar, Bombur's wife. They were such a comfort.

At first, Bombur came back with his brother Bofur and his cousin Bifur to Ered Luin. The big dwarf had planned to bring back his wife and children to live in Erebor. But now, nobody was sure it was such a great idea after all. Had Thorin lived and become the King of the Lonely Mountain, of course, all the members of the Company would have stayed at his side.

But now, with Dain as King, Erebor filled with dwarves from the Iron Hills and with the bitter end of their Quest, they were not eager to go back.

Bombur was weary of all their travels. He wanted to spend some time with his wife and kids, he wanted rest. And Bofur and Bifur would always remain with him.

Linar did not want to leave Dis as well. The two dwarf women were very close to each other.

Dis didn't want her friends to leave either. She wanted to keep them at her side, to help raise the kids, to be surrounded with people who knew and understood her pain.

Balin had been given leave by Dain to rule the Blue Mountains as steward. Of course, the new King of Erebor preferred Thorin's closest advisor as far away from him as possible, so that nothing would interfere with his ruling.

Many dwarves had left the Blue Mountains and taken the journey to Erebor. The halls were less crowded and only those who wished it remained. It was better that way. They would form a small settlement of dwarves, continue their mining, their iron crafts and trade with the nearby villages of Men and the Shire.

It was not the life of plenty, surrounded by riches and gold, they could have had in Erebor, but it was what they wanted.

No one said it, but during the Quest and its sad outcome, they had all realized that being rich would not make them happy.

As they were dwarves, they would never admit this out loud, but they all felt that way.

When they could see at last the smoke rising from the chimneys of the village, Dis's mind wandered to the main reason of her latest smiles. The tall tattooed dwarf, best friend of her brother, held a special place in her heart for many years now.

She had never wanted so much to remain close to him as she did now.

* * *

_[Evendim Manor. Eriador]_

When smelling the delicious scent of hot pancakes, Thorin felt, just for a second, like he was back in the Blue Mountains, when Dis was cooking for all the family on a resting day.

He rolled in his bed, sighed, and his eyes snapped open wide. There were only two people in this Manor, and if he wasn't the one cooking… that meant…

Mylan was out of bed!

He dressed up quickly, put on his large black cloak so that it would over most of his body and face, his gloves and unlocked his bedroom door.

He followed the scent of hot butter until he stopped outside the kitchen door. This situation was becoming impossible. Staying in the same house without seeing each other. He wanted her to stay, he did not want to be left alone again with his demons, but he feared above all things her fear and disgust when she would see him for the first time.

Mylan was cooking and singing in such a carefree way. She seemed happy in this instant and Thorin envied her.

He opened the door just an inch and remained hidden behind it.

Mylan heard the door creaking open, put down her frying pan and walked to it. She put her back again her side of the door, like she had done the night before.

"Good morning" she said softly.

"Aye" he said, his voice hoarse and tense "You're an early riser."

"I'm a baker remember?" she said "Do you want some breakfast? I've made us some pancakes."

Thorin sighed. She was trying to trick him with food! This situation was torture.

On the other side of the door, Mylan was surprised by her own boldness. She was still anxious to get back to her father and reassure him, but if she left without knowing who her rescuer was, she would regret it for all her life, she knew.

She felt irresistibly drawn to him, to his conversation, his presence. She has never felt so giddy and intrigued as she had felt the night before.

She could fell his hesitation so she made an offer to diffuse the tension:

"Do you want to blindfold my eyes while we eat?"

Thorin felt something warm stir inside him as her words. It would be very satisfying to have the pleasure to look at her when she could not see him, to gaze upon her white arms and hands, her delicate neck and lips. Though, he would still not have the pleasure to see her eyes.

"No. This is getting ridiculous" he answered her angrily "Eat and then, I'll show you the right direction to get back to your village. I'm going to get your pony saddled and ready." he added reluctantly.

He then walked quickly out of the house in the front garden, angry at himself for his fears and his desire at the same time.

Mylan gazed through the kitchen window and saw a broad figure clad in a black cloak hurrying to the side of the house. He then disappeared from her view and she felt her heart clench. She did not know what were the demons he was running from, but they seemed very strong indeed.

Mylan knew was her rescuer was a good man. He would not have taken care of her, fed her, talked to her otherwise. He was a lonely person, with lot of resentment towards himself, it seemed.

She burned with the curiosity to see him, to see what he looked like. Maybe he was horribly disfigured or terribly injured from some battle. Maybe he had some kind of deformity. Maybe he was some kind of creature.

But it did not matter in the end, how he looked. He was a good person and she wanted to get to know him better, to hear his low voice again, this voice that made her shiver.

After half an hour outside the house, Thorin still felt terribly frustrated. Mylan had not come out and was still in the kitchen. He would have to come and get her, so that she could leave.

How to do that without her seeing him, he did not know and growled.

He walked back inside the house and called her through the kitchen door.

"Mylan?" he said "It's time to go. Your pony's ready."

Silence. She did not answer.

"Mylan?" he called again.

He knew she was inside the kitchen, he had seen her petite form through the window.

Why wasn't she answering him? Was this another trick or had something happened to her?

Thorin popped an eye to gaze inside the kitchen, and gaped at what he saw.

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_**The review is like the "blue" in "blueberry" ! ;)**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Thank you so much to all the readers, followers and reviewers !**_

_**I hope you still like the story. The beginning in quite slow (and sad), I admit. Here's another chapter with Thorin and Mylan, getting to know each other.**_

_**Have a great sunday ! :)**_

_**Disclaimer : I own nothing (except the OC).**_

* * *

**Chapter 8: It's where my demons hide**

_[Evendim Manor. Eriador]_

As the kitchen door opened completely, he could see Mylan seated at the wooden table, two plates filled with pancakes and two mugs of tea in front of her. Her eyes were blindfolded with a black piece of cloth and she seemed to be waiting for him.

He could not stop the smile to appear on his lips at this sight. And it felt good to smile again at this young woman's boldness. He could not be angry at her, not when she had made all these efforts to have breakfast with him while respecting his wishes.

But on the other hand; he had the disturbing feeling that she was taming him slowly, like the beast he was.

"You're quite stubborn, you know." he finally growled.

"I'll consider that as a compliment" she said, smiling, turning her face towards where his voice came from. "Will you come and have breakfast with me now?" she asked.

Thorin sighed, but sat on the other side of the table, facing her. This situation was crazy, he thought.

He took a bit of the pancakes and a sip of tea.

"It's very good" he told her "You must be a good baker."

"Thanks. I really like cooking, and besides reading, that's what I like the most."

He looked at her small hands as she fumbled to grasp her mug of tea off the table. When she found it, she took a sip, and her lips glistened with tea in a very appealing way. Thorin stared at her lips for a moment, glad that she could not see him.

She tried to put the mug back on the table, but almost put it on top of the side of her plate.

He instinctively reached to guide her hand and put the mug safely back on the table, enclosing her hand in his large ones for a second. His palms, unlike his knuckles, were hairless and warm against her cold small one.

"Thanks." she smiled "Your hands are warm." she stated, as he immediately put them away from her soft skin.

Thorin sat very tense and silent, as she asked him:

"So, what are you hiding from in this huge house?"

"Who said I'm hiding from something?" he answered defensively.

"Me" she said, her tone firm, but she was still smiling "I think you're mostly hiding from yourself."

Thorin ruffled his hair in frustration. He was angry at her words, angry at her for seeing through him, but he did not want to yell at her for doing so. It would scare her, and he did not want that.

He growled in frustration, and she felt the tension growing in the room.

"I'm not judging you. I'm hiding from many things myself: I'm hiding from my guilt, from my loneliness, from my plainness and from the pain to be rejected" she said in a rush of emotions she did not feel coming so quickly.

Mylan wanted him to know that she had fears as well, that she had pains and regrets as well.

"Who rejected you?" he asked, curious.

"Some people at the village. I'm too small, you see. I would not make a good wife." Thorin saw the way her smile disappeared as she said that, and the frown that found its way on her lovely round face.

"You don't seem small to me" he said at once.

"You are kind" she said smiling again "But I'm considered small and frail compared to the other women. Some call me the "dwarf baker"."

"What's wrong with being a dwarf?" Thorin said defensively, immediately regretting his words.

"So, _you're_ a dwarf…" Mylan deduced easily. She was smiling widely at him now, ecstatic with this new piece of information about her rescuer.

Thorin sighed loudly and put his hairy face in his hands.

"I was" he whispered.

Mylan stayed silent for a couple of minute, her blindfolded eyes still fixed on his large figure, not seeing but yearning to see.

"That's what you did not want me to find out? That you were a dwarf? How can someone stop being a dwarf?" she asked all at once, following her train of thought.

Thorin did not know what to do. Should he trust her? Should he tell her the truth?

As he was musing over this, she surprised him once more and seemed to reach over the table for his hand. Her face came closer to his as she said in a low voice, like a confession:

"It does not matter. You're a good person. If you don't want to tell me, I understand."

"I'm cursed" he said at once. He did not know why but he wanted to explain to her why he would not let her see him.

"Who cursed you?" she whispered, like they were not alone in the kitchen.

"I know it sounds crazy" he sighed "but the Gods did."

"Why?"

"It's a well-deserved punishment for my greed" he admitted, his voice hoarse.

"Aren't all dwarves greedy?" she asked, smiling to try to diffuse the tension a bit.

He could not help but smile bitterly at her, before answering in truth:

"I'm the worst, trust me."

She nodded, and remained silent, not wanting to push him any further. Mylan still burned with the need to ask him questions. She wanted to reach and touch him once more, to guess through her fingers what he looked like.

He took her silence for disgust, but when he looked at her face, she looked to be deep in thought.

"Maybe it's time for you to go" he stated.

Mylan let her fork fall on the table, and she looked pained all of a sudden. She knew that if she went before knowing more, she would regret it.

"What's your curse?" she asked eagerly.

"Don't you know enough already?" he sighed growling.

"I want to know you" she admitted, taken aback by his harsh tone "I want to be your friend" she blurted out quickly.

Thorin raised his eyebrows at her words.

"And if I don't want to be your friend?" he said harshly, not liking to be cornered and at the same time afraid of his own foreign desire to keep her close as well.

As she heard him, her face turned blank and she put her arms around herself, hands slightly trembling.

He had hurt her, he could see it.

Thorin could not take it anymore. He got up and paced the kitchen angrily, before telling her in a loud voice, one she was not accustomed to:

"Why would you want to be friends with a monster, girl?! Some kind of beast. I could kill you with one strike!" he finished, yelling at her.

Mylan still did not look afraid, she looked pained instead, her hand over her heart, her chest heaving as she clenched the hem of her dress.

"You won't" she whispered.

"How can you be so sure of that?" he retorted angrily, standing close to her.

"Why save me, then kill me?" she answered bravely "It doesn't make any sense."

"You know nothing, girl" he spat back.

At this, she got up and stumbled to him, her back against the kitchen door, as if she was preventing him from leaving. And in truth, she was.

"I'm no girl" she told him defiantly, her head high and her tone vexed "Haven't you noticed?"

As she said so, he stepped silently closer to her, and stared at her lips which trembled slightly. A woman she was indeed. He could not deny it. He had felt her curves against his body when he had carried her to the house, and even now he could not avert his eyes from her soft auburn curls and round hips.

Mylan could feel the heat radiating from his close body, and his breath on her cheeks. It burned her skin in an intoxicating way.

He remained silent and she thought he had calmed down a bit.

She could not help herself then. Her hand reached up and she placed it awkwardly against his shirt, on his chest.

Thorin stopped breathing as she did so. His ears were ringing, his brain screamed to stop her, but he stood frozen like a statue.

Her hand slowly made its way upwards against his hairy neck, burying itself in the curls, and she reached to stroke his cheek and the side of his face.

Thorin's gaze remained fixed on Mylan's face. She was gaping, her mouth slightly open, her eyes searching through the cloth, her hand discovering…

Her thumb stroked his bearded cheek one last time before pulling back. She had a satisfied smile on her face now as she stated gently:

"You're soft."

The way she said it, it was like an evidence, something she had known all along.

He sighed, but inside his heart was relieved that she had not been disgusted of touching him. Her touch had been light and it left his skin tingling.

"Come on, let's get you home" he said.

She nodded, knowing it was time. Then, she very naturally reached for his arm to guide herself and followed him outside the house.

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_**The review is like discovering there's still a little piece of chocolate left in your fridge ... ;)**_


	9. Chapter 9

_**Thank you to all the readers and followers of this story. Hugs to my faithful reviewers : Aliena wyvern and Kassandra85 !**_

_**After a really busy week IRL, here's another chapter :)**_

_**Please please review and let me know what you think ! I hope that my fic is not too serious ...^^**_

* * *

**Chapter 9: Broken wings**

_[The Wild. Between Lake Evendim and Eriador]_

Mylan sat on her pony, still blindfolded, feeling the cold wind on her face, her body shivering.

Thorin was leading her pony, the reins in his hand, walking at her side. It was the end of morning and they had been riding east for an hour now.

Thorin turned his eyes back at Mylan and saw her shivering. He stopped the pony and silently reached up to put his large cloak on her small shoulders. She immediately felt warm, engulfed in his scent. He smelled of smoke and grass.

She smiled and thanked him.

After a few minutes, she asked:

"Do you know any stories?"

"Aye. I'm quite old, you know" he answered in truth.

She nodded and said simply "You must have had a very full life… but I feel you don't want to talk about it…"

"Aye" he nodded, shaking his head.

This woman would be the death of him, understanding him so well and weakening his old barriers. Their encounter felt unatural, even organized .

He had the strong feeling that a fair goddess could be behind it all.

"Let me tell you a story then. I took it from one of my newest books" Mylan offered cheerfully.

"Go on" he said.

And Thorin was completely bewildered to hear her tell him, her voice filled with thrilling and admiration, about the Quest for Erebor of thirteen dwarves, a hobbit and a wizard. Word of their deeds had travelled fast, it seemed, if there was already a book about it.

She told him his own journey in a very excited and innocent way, stopping to point out how much she loved one part of the story or some character.

Now Thorin was quite sure that Yvanna was playing with his sanity.

When Mylan had finished the story and he remained silent at her side, she asked:

"I hope I did not upset you by telling this story?... I don't know where you come from?"

She put her small hand on one of his shoulders in comfort. Of course, it pained him to hear of the Quest and its bitter end, but he did not want to dwell on it. He reserved his brooding and pain for when he was alone.

"I come from the Blue Mountains" he answered in a final tone, his thought bent again on his sister, wondering if she still lived there. He hoped Dwalin was with her. His oldest friend would take care of her, he was sure of it.

They rode in silence for another two hours, and both felt something foreign and disagreeable take place inside their chests.

Mylan was happy to see her father and reassure him, and, at the same time, torn with sadness and fear at leaving her rescuer. She feared she would never see him again after this day.

Thorin felt relieved that he would be back with his familiar demons, but disturbed at the same time to leave her, that she would go back to her life, where he had no place.

They reached the top of a small hill and he stopped the pony. Freton could be seen at the bottom of the hill, the houses quiet and surrounded by snow.

"Your village is just down that hill" he said, his tone neutral "I will leave you now."

She nodded, her heart clenching.

"Help me down" she asked in a small voice.

He reached up to take her arms in his hands, and she slid on the ground, trapped against the pony and his body. He made to step back, but she did not let go of his hands and pressed herself closer to him.

Her eyes were again searching for his through the cloth, their faces very close.

"When will I see you again?" she whispered, not daring to say "_if I see you again_". She had to see him again.

"Mylan… I don't know" he blurted out. He didn't want to say "_never_".

"Your secrets are safe with me" she told him firmly.

He nodded, and lifted her back on the pony, the parting already weighing on his heart.

She tightened her hold on his hands one last time before letting go. Then, she felt him leave her side, his footsteps growing fainter and the sound of his breath disappearing completely after a few seconds.

Then, she could not hear anything else besides the sound of the wind surrounding her. No familliar and strong presence at her side, nor the sound of his feet crushing the snow-covered grass.

She waited for a few seconds to take the cloth from her eyes, the sunlight blinding her. The air was suddenly so cold against her eyelids and on her cheeks. She took a deep breath, and not turning back she rode hard towards her village, the wind digging the tracks the tears had left on her skin.

Mylan felt so many complicated and mixed emotions at the moment that her head felt like it was spinning.

* * *

_[Valinor]_

Yvanna sat on the bench staring at her favorite mirror, when her husband entered the room.

"You seemed very smug about yourself" Mahal said smiling as he sat beside her.

"My little "_Thorin's Quest_" is progressing" she told him, returning the smile.

"Finally?" he teased "I was beginning to think he would remain a hairy beast forever."

She elbowed him in the ribs.

"Don't be like that!" she chastised him "These things take time. But she will help him" she added turning her eyes back to the mirror.

Mahal followed her eyes and saw the young baker riding hard to her village.

"The baker's daughter?" he wondered, his eyebrow raising almost to his dark hair.

"Aye. She will be his salvation. She will break him." Yavanna said firmly "In a good way, of course" she grinned.

"Females saving males from their inner demons… I know you like the idea."

"That's why we're here for" she nodded before kissing him.

* * *

_[Blue Mountains. Eriador]_

Balin, Dwalin, Dis, the Ur brothers and the captain of the guard of the Blue Mountains were all gathered around the round table in the Great Hall.

In front of Balin lay a parchment with the Royal Seal of the King of Erebor.

"Dain want us to come and live in Erebor and abandon the Blue Mountains for good." announced the white bearded dwarf thoughtfully at the assembly.

"Well, he can come himself and try to make me leave, I won't move!" exclaimed Dis, her face flushed with anger "How dare he give us orders? I'm higher than him in all the royal genealogies of dwarves!"

Balin put a hand on Dis' shoulder to try to calm her down.

"Can he make us leave if we don't want to?" asked Bofur, with a worried look.

"He thinks himself the King of all dwarves, doesn't he…" grumbled Dwalin in his beard.

"In truth, it is known that I'm ruling here by his leave" admitted Balin, with a preoccupied frown.

Dis hated this situation. She had remained inactive for too long, and now they were in this mess: a distant prideful cousin who thought he could rule their lives, who thought he could order around the very dwarves who had reclaimed the throne he currently sat on.

She got up brusquely and startled them all, by catching the parchment in her hand.

"I will answer to Dain myself, equal to equal" she said firmly "He has Erebor now, so he'd better leave us alone. If I choose to remarry, my husband would be King of all dwarven Kingdoms in Middle-Earth, so Dain should shut his big mouth for once!"

And she stormed out of the Great Hall, leaving them all stunned.

Balin sighed and then laughed quietly as he commented:

"I know I've said this before to you lads, but there is one I would follow. There is one I would call "_Queen_" ."

They all smiled at his words, remembering, and nodded.

Dwalin was still staring at the door where Dis had disappeared. She had talked about the possibility of getting married again and it filled his heart with hope and fear at the same time. Had she been serious ? Or maybe she had been talking in anger only ?

He did not want to ever leave the Blue Mountains again. He had had his fill of battles and dangerous travels. He had had his share of loss, blood and grieving in his life.

Dwalin had had enough of all this.

* * *

_**please review ! :)**_


	10. Chapter 10

_**Thank you soooo much for the reviews ! they make me really happy, so big thanks to : Kassandra85, Vault108, Hanna and aliena wyvern !**_

_**And thanks to all the readers and followers of this story. It's great to have your feedback !**_

_**Here's another chapter and more Dis/Dwalin goodness ;)  
**_

* * *

**Chapter 10: Dare come closer**

_[Blue Mountains. Eriador]_

It was the evening. Dwalin sat in his study, examining the report of their last profits made by the sale of iron objects of the Blue Mountains.

It was good news for everyone as the money would help them get their granaries refilled for next winter. Life was simple and quite good in Ered Luin. They had been fantasizing for so long about Erebor and its riches, that they forgot that they had quite enough food, happiness and shelter here, in the East of Eriador.

Dwalin took a sip of ale and heard a soft knock at the door.

"Come in" he grumbled.

Dis opened the door and stepped in. Her face was determined and serious as often, and she was clasping, without knowing she was, the small silken purse that contained the silver beads of her sons. She carried it in her pocket at all times, since Balin had brought them back to her.

"I've sent the letter to Dain. If we are lucky, he'll decide not to meddle in our affairs and he'll leave us alone. He can call himself "_the mighty king of all the dwarven kingdoms of Middle-Earth_" for all I care, as long as we can live here as we choose" she spat.

"You want us to be independent from Erebor then?" asked Dwalin, admiring her courage and fiery heart.

Dis stopped pacing and sat on the chair on the other side of Dwalin's desk. She picked up a quill and let the feather slide between her fingers thoughtfully. Her eyes were bent on her hands and he found himself mesmerized by her slow movements.

It was a charming painting, really: Dis wore a blue dress, simple but of a beautiful deep color. Her fingers were delicate and Dwalin's eyes travelled from her long dark eyelashes, to her shining black hair and her breasts that heaved just slightly as she sighed.

"I don't know what I want..." she mumbled in frustration "I'm not a leader like my brother. I just want for us to be left alone, so that we can live and decide what to do with the rest of the time that is given to us."

Her statement was honest and true. She was not ambitious, nor greedy. She could have been… she was a Durin after all. But the hardships of her life had almost broken her… Now all she wanted was peace and quiet.

"I think you'd make a fine leader" Dwalin commented quietly. He could not stop himself from telling her this, because he was so deeply convinced of it.

Dis raised her eyes to meet his, her face surprised, but flattered at the same time. Coming from him, it was a great compliment to earn such a praise.

"Dwarf women are not allowed to lead their folk, or have you forgotten about that, Master Dwarf?" she smirked bitterly.

"Aye, but tis' stupid" he retorted immediately "…when you are the one concerned, that is" he added quickly.

"You are quite the gentle-dwarf to say so…" she said, reaching to grasp his large hand across the desk.

Dwalin felt his skin tingle as her small fingers tried to enclose his wrist, then her hand slid and she laced her fingers to his. The gesture was simple and oddly intimate, like a token of trust.

She smiled at him.

"Have you eaten yet?" she asked gently.

The evening was growing late, and neither of them had eaten; too absorbed in their daily tasks. There was still much to organize in Ered Luin for the remaining dwarves. Families were getting settled in bigger houses; those who chose to go were packing and organizing their journey…

The sons of Fundin were helping and leading everyone, as was the Princess of Durin, mainly because it kept them occupied, their minds focused on duty and not on their common grief.

Dwalin shook his head.

She smiled again and got up, not releasing his hand for a second and turned around the desk. She bent slightly to look into his eyes. As he was still seated, he was looking up to her.

There was this spark in her eyes, the same she had when she was watching her sons play when they were dwarflings. The light was fainter, but it was there, and it made Dwalin's heart warm greatly.

Maybe Dis would eventually mend from her terrible losses…

He could totally grow accustomed to see her happy every day. She was so exceptional to him. He wanted to tell her that, but it was difficult. His abilities lay on the battlefield, not in feelings nor words, so he just told her:

"The smile suits you."

You would think that after going through so much misery and pain, Dis would never be touched by any statement again. But she was touched, because it came from Dwalin. And she blushed like a young lass.

Trying to hide her blush, she pulled him on his feet, which was not a small accomplishment considering the dwarf's size and weight, and she proclaimed happily:

"Come. I'm kidnapping you for supper!"

She led him towards the door as he tried to complain:

"But I've still got work to do!"

"Do not tell me you've fell in love with paperwork, or I'll eat my own beard!" she retorted. "Besides, it's an order!"

"An order from whom?" he asked, amused by her behavior.

She turned towards him and straightened up to appear taller than she was.

Still, her nose did not reach his chin.

"From me …" she hesitated, and added firmly "Your Princess!"

"Aye. I'm yours to command, Princess Dis"

He bent low in front of her, like he had done so many times in the past during the formal royal ceremonies.

It brought them both back to memories of another reality; where they were younger, happier, burdened only with lighter concerns and dreams… so many dreams…

She reached again to seize both of his hands in hers and took one step forwards. Dwalin had always been here, all her life. He had seen Fili and Kili grow up, had fought with Thorin, had protected her, had played with her when she was little.

More wrinkles had appeared at the corner of his eyes and his dark beard was now decorated with some silver threads. But he had kept his rough side, the same passion with which he had lived all his life.

She cared about him, she felt drawn to him, that was for sure. She had missed him when he was on the Quest, but now that he was back and she could see him every day, she found herself searching his presence daily. She felt restless at the end of the day if she had not seen him at least once.

Dwalin let his hands slide out of her palms, up along her arms to her shoulders where they rested in a gentle gesture. Dis did not say nor do anything. She just watched him and felt calm and relaxed by the feeling of his warm hands.

Dwalin was entranced and thrilled. She was real under his large fingers, and she did not reject his touch.

He was about to reach up to feel the soft exposed skin of her neck, when the study's door opened loudly and suddenly. It pushed Dis forward and she fell into Dwalin's arms. He caught her up and secured her against his broad chest.

"Dwalin! Dis!" cried Bofur happily "I've been looking for you everywhere! Linar is expecting another baby!"

The embraced couple smiled immediately at the good news, and turned toward Bofur.

"Bombur did not waste any time, did he!" laughed Dwalin "It's been only a few weeks since we came back."

"You know us" Bofur smiled cheekily "The Ur Brothers, famous for their strength in every matter!"

Dis laughed as well at that.

"Bombur is the only one to have kids, might I remind you..." she told him, smirking.

Bofur smirked back and hushed them outside happily.

"Come now. We're having a party!"

Dwalin and Dis followed him to join their friends, their hands still clasped together.

There was life again in the Blue Mountains, something to celebrate and friends to be happy for. It was a very good evening.

* * *

**_I hope you liked this happy chapter. Please review ! :)_**


	11. Chapter 11

_**OMG ! thank you sooooo much for the reviews ! you are amazing ! :) I'm really happy to have such feedback :)**_

_**Thank you to all the readers, followers and reviewers of this story !**_  
_**Here's another chapter, slightly darker... where we find out what happens to Mylan back in her village.**_

* * *

**Chapter 11: The beast inside**

_[Freton. Eriador]_

A few months later, things had changed at the bakery.

Father and daughter no longer lived in a quiet and happy cohabitation, like they had done for all their lives.

Eron had been terribly worried when Mylan had disappeared for two nights in a row, lost somewhere on the road between Bree and Freton, in the middle of a winter storm.

And when she came back, unarmed, refusing to explain what had happened to her, Eron felt betrayed and angry. He had ordered her to give him some explanations, but she would not say anything on the matter, except that "someone" had helped her.

Mylan was changed as well.

She barely talked, or laughed, went to her daily tasks without spirit, and spent her days mostly bathed in her own silence.

Worst of all, there was this noisy neighbor that kept coming to the house to see her father nowadays. Esther was her name, a middle-aged widow that lived on the borders of the village in a dirty house with her vicious son, Joffrey.

Mylan had not really noticed it before now, but Esther did spent some time talking with Eron at the market, or when she came at the bakery. Her hair was dark blond with hints of grey, and she wore it in a bun at the top of her head. She was very skinny and her hands looked like spiders's legs, ready to grasp and pinch anything that passed by.

Esther's husband had died ten years ago, leaving her and their son without income. Joffrey had to work in the fields as a laborer from an early age, while his mother did the laundry and cleaning for some richer inhabitants of the village.

Now the widow often came directly at Eron's house to chat with the baker, bringing along her false smile.

She was cunning. Mylan did not trust her at all. She knew what Esther wanted, she was no fool.

Esther was seducing her father to get married again and thus improve her circumstances. Even if it was difficult for her to imagine her father with another woman than her mother, Mylan would have understood if both loved each other.

It was not the case. Maybe Eron cared for Esther and thought her nice, but he was mostly flattered by the attention he was receiving all of a sudden.

Esther was mainly manipulative, and she would not stop until she got what she wanted. But the worst thing about her was her son.

Joffrey was stupid, vain and violent. He was already bitter while being younger then Mylan herself. In the village, he was known for having slapped a young maid when she had refused to kiss him. The poor young woman had had a nasty cut on her cheek for weeks.

Mylan avoided him at all costs. She took care to never be in his presence alone, but always while other people were around.

Mother and son often came for dinner now, invited by Eron. Esther was talking quietly with her father: she would whisper in his ear, and they would both smile while looking at their children.

They were up to something and Mylan had the terrible feeling that it concerned her.

She would often excuse herself and go up to her room, blaming a recurring headache. Then she would open her window and stare for long hours at the landscape in the East: the hills that she knew hid behind them the wide Lake of pure and deep blue water.

Mylan had never felt so lonely, nor so frustrated in all her life. She felt like a prisoner, trapped in this little village, in her petty fate, after having known a little bit of adventure and mystery, even if it had been for two short days.

_What was he doing right now?_ she wondered.

Every day, she thought about the stranger of the Lake, his low and unmistakable voice, and his troubled existence.

There were so many answers she did not asked him, and so many things about him she would never know.

Mylan had never been moved by anyone, as she had been by him. She was drawn to him and she felt miserable, when month after month, the probability of another encounter slowly faded away...

It was Sunday morning and the bakery was closed. Mylan did not come down for breakfast but lay in bed for hours staring at the ceiling.

Spring had come and the birds singing outside in the back garden had put her mind in some kind of reverie she was not inclined to leave just yet.

What roused her was the sound of the front door opening and closing, and of voices chatting animatedly downstairs.

She dressed quietly in a brown dress and put on a leather belt along with her boots. In the corner of her room, lay the large black cloak of the stranger, hidden under her winter coat. She could not wear it in public but would keep it always.

She opened slightly the door of her bedroom and heard them talking downstairs:

"It's so good of you to invite us for lunch again, Eron" Esther was saying in her best sugary voice. "Let us help you…"

There was a noise of plates being set upon the table.

"It's my pleasure" Eron said "Though you will excuse me if the food is quite simple. I made it myself and am better at baking bread than making stew."

"Nonsense" Esther retorted "It will be delicious as always. Didn't your daughter help you?" she added innocently.

"No" Eron answered with a hint of sadness and irritation "She keeps to her room these days".

"Well, I think it's her place to help her father and take care of the house. You're being too kind to her" Esther told him.

"Aye. Maybe I am" sighed Eron.

"Joff, why don't you go outside and cut some wood for Eron?" Esther asked her son.

"Oh really, there's no need…" started Eron, but she cut him.

"Come on. If we can help you with anything, we will. The Gods have not gifted you with a son, and if my son can be of any assistance, he will" she stated.

Mylan could almost see Esther's horrible sweet smile and false compassion. She rolled her eyes and sighed.

There was a door opening and closing as Joffrey left them to go to the back garden.

"Have you thought about what I offered you?" Esther immediately asked Eron in a pressing but low voice.

Mylan had to focus to hear what they were saying in hushed tones.

"I don't know…" Eron hesitated "Isn't she a little bit old to get married?"

"26 is not very old. I think she could still bear a child, and that's what matters. You deserve a right to get on with your life, and your daughter has to make hers and leave. It's the way things are." Esther stated in a final voice.

"But I don't think she wants to get married" Eron admitted, uncertain.

"Most girls don't know what they want, and more important, what's good for them. Don't you want to be a grandfather?" she asked in a tempting voice.

"Aye, maybe a grandson will replace the son I never had." Eron said in a pained voice.

Mylan heard her heart break a little at her father's words, and soon her cheeks were salty and wet. She had not realized how deep Esther's deeds had already corrupted her father's mind.

"Don't you want to be alone with me in this house? Just the two of us?" Esther asked him, the suggestion obvious in her voice.

Mylan did not want to hear more. She got up and abruptly went down the stairs, angrily wiping her tears with the back of her hand.

She faced her father and Esther and mumbled some sort of greeting.

"Ha Mylan… there you are" said Eron, looking slightly uncomfortable.

Esther smiled at her, but did not release her hold on Eron's forearm. There was an awkward silence where everyone stared at each other.

"Eron dear, maybe Mylan could fetch us some ale from the garden shack for lunch" Esther suddenly suggested happily.

The nerve of this woman, already behaving like she owned the place, and ordering her around! Mylan felt her tiny hands ball into fists, but her face showed no emotion.

"Of course" she told Esther in the same sugary tone.

Anything to get away from this place.

As Mylan got out, the spring sun fell on her face and hair, warming her bitter heart and wounded feelings.

One thing was for sure now: she no longer had a place in her father's house, not for long anyway.

Mylan could not imagine as she walked towards the back of the garden, that her life's course would change irremediably on this day.

In the blink of an eye.

* * *

_**Okay, just so you know, the villain in my stories is always named "Joffrey". I was traumatized by GOT ;)**_

_**The review is like finding the "fève" in the galette des rois ! LOL ;) So please review !  
**_


	12. Chapter 12

_**Thank you so much for the reviews ! you are the best ! Your reviews really cheered me up during this tiring week :)**_

_**And thanks to all the readers and followers !**_

_**The next chapter is all about Thorin and Mylan. So more Thorin yay ! :)**_

**_Warning_****_ : this chapter contains a scene of abuse (light, but still). Rated M._**

_**The story will alternate from here between Evendim Manor and the Blue Mountains. I hope you'll still like it :)**_

* * *

**Chapter 12: I want to shelter you**

_[Freton. Eriador]_

Mylan arrived at the back of the garden, where a fence separated it from a nearby field. She did not enter the shack, nor did she retrieve the ale Esther wanted her to bring back.

She instead opened the fence and started walking in the field, the grass reaching up to her knees as she bathed in the sun. She stopped and looked east again, at the small hills that were hiding Evendim Manor from her view.

In this moment of calm, everything was still except for the wind that made her hair and the grass dancing all around her.

She had not realized she was being followed until she was seized from behind and roughly turned to face Esther's son, Joffrey.

He had a nasty smile plastered on his face. His dirty blond hair was falling from his shoulders and his forehead sweating. His grip on her arms was strong and painful, his eyes hungry. He was so much taller than her, the top of her head barely reaching his neck.

"Where d'you think you're goin'?" he growled, his uneven teeth enhancing his already dangerous smile.

"Let me go" she told him firmly, shaking her arms helplessly. He only brought her small form closer to his. She could feel his hot and damp shirt against her forearms.

"Why should I?" he asked, laughing at her.

Mylan grew angry and scared. She was all alone in this field with him, too far from her house to call for help. She did not trust Joffrey for a second to have good intentions. He was twisted and took delight in her fear.

"You hurting me!" she said, raising her voice.

"Am I?" he whispered to her, bringing her face closer to his until his hair fell down on her face. He smelled of dried sweat and rotten meat. Mylan almost gagged and tried again to break free from his iron grasp.

"Let me go!" she screamed this time.

There was only the wind to hear her plea.

Joffrey laughed again harder this time, and released one of her wrists to grasp her neck. He glued his face against her cheek and licked the side of her face. Mylan shuddered with disgust and screamed louder.

She tried scratching his face with her free hand, and he seemed to like even more that she was resisting him.

"Fierce little thing aren' you?" he told her, still smiling and catching again her other hand "I wanna taste what's mine. Don't you think it's fair?"

"I'll never be yours!" she yelled at him "Let me go! I'll tell my father about this!"

"Tis gonna happen anyway, I don't see why you bother to resist" he said, still deeply amused.

"What do you mean?" she asked, eyes now wide with fear.

"D' you hear them talking before?" he told her smirking "I thought you were supposed to be smart… But your cute face and fiery hair will still do."

"I'll never marry you!" yelled Mylan, now understanding, and trying to break free from him like a possessed woman.

He only laughed and brought her down on the floor, crushing her small body with his, his nails digging the skin of her arms.

"Now, I wanna a nice preview" he whispered, trying to rip her shirt with his teeth exposing her shoulder and biting in her tender skin.

Mylan screamed again and struggled in vain as the tears filled her eyes.

No one would come to her aid. She had no one. Her father had almost sold her to this beast of a man.

How did it come to this?

She never had much friends or family, but she never would have thought she could be abandoned by all.

She could fell his knees trying to part her legs and screamed louder, praying towards the blue sky.

She would not give up.

She would die before she stopped fighting him.

All of a sudden, Joffrey was torn off from her frame and thrown away, landing heavily on the floor, moaning and clutching his left arm.

A very large person clad all in black had saved her from her attacker. He wasn't facing her, his wild dark black hair shivering under the wind, his large hands hairy and transformed into terrible claws.

He was watching Joffrey whining at his bleeding arm and crawling back to the garden, like the coward he was.

Mylan did not need to see his face to recognize him, and as he was about to pursue Joffrey, she launched herself at him.

She grasped his arm and forced him to face her. They both fell on their knees, the grass surrounding them.

"Echo, no!" she said to him, pressing herself against his large and warm chest.

She was shivering all over with shock.

He instinctively put his arms around her petite frame, but she could still feel him shaking with anger.

She drew back from his chest after taking a few deep breaths to calm herself, and saw his face for the first time. Her eyes first registered surprise, and very soon relief, pure relief.

His dwarven features were slightly altered, his nose very long, most of his skin covered with dark hair and his serious eyes fixed upon her. His teeth were slightly bigger as well.

"Echo, let him go" she whispered to him, already lost in his amazing blue eyes, and not able to look elsewhere for one minute.

He was trying to calm himself from the fury he had felt when the blond man had attacked her. The pleasure of seeing her relieved face and her sweet brown eyes for the first time helped him.

There was no hint of disgust nor fear in Mylan's eyes when she looked at him.

And for that, he was grateful, and so relieved his heart was bursting.

Very quickly, the stress of the attack came crashing back upon Mylan and she was shaking all over again, clinging to his shirt with her small hands balled into fists.

"Don't leave me" she whispered through her sobs.

He had just saved her. Of course, he wasn't going to leave her. But she didn't know that.

"You're safe now" he told her firmly in his comforting low voice, hugging her to him to emphasize his words.

She buried her face against his hairy neck and never wanted to let go. He had come back for her. He had saved her. He was there for her.

"Take me with you" she whispered against his skin.

"But your family…" he hesitated.

"I have none now" she told him, her tone final.

He nodded, not wanting to ask for explanations. He had wanted to bring her back to the Manor since they had been separated, had watched her almost every day from a distance, as she worked in her back garden, strolled in the fields. He could see her baking through the kitchen window every morning. It was his ritual and he liked it. He liked that she was still a part of his life, even if they were not in contact with each other.

He had missed her, had been almost obsessed with her for weeks.

He did not know if she wanted to see him, so he had kept his distance, even if she seemed gloomy.

But now, she wanted him to bring her back to the Manor.

_She wanted to stay with him._

Thorin could not believe his ears. He smiled through her hair, his lips grazing gently the top of her head. She was there, in his arms, her hair smelling of something fresh and soap like he had imagined it would.

"Take me with you, Echo" she repeated feebly, almost feverishly, pressing herself against his chest.

He could feel all her curves and her full breasts crushing against him, and he lost it. Thorin was still a dwarf with desires and it had been a very long time since he had felt so aroused and warm inside at the same time.

He gathered her in his arms and stood up. As he walked in the direction of the eastern hills, he could feel her relax as she fell asleep, exhausted.

He would bring them home.

He would take care of her, shelter her. Maybe that was his purpose in life now, and what a sweet burden it would be.

* * *

_**The review is like watching the snow fall outside when you're all warm and comfortable under your blankets...**_

_**Please review! :)**_


	13. Chapter 13

_**Thank you so much to my faithful reviewers : Guest, Kassandra85 and aliena wyvern !**_

_**It's great to have your feedback :)**_

_**And thanks to all the followers and readers of this story. I hope the violent scene in the last chapter did not disturb anyone too much.**_

_**Here's another chapter, still with Thorin and Mylan :) The title is a tribute to the excellent TV series from the BBC.**_

* * *

**Chapter 13: Being human**

_[The wild. Evendim hills. Eriador]_

For three longs hours, Thorin had walked in the fields and between the eastern hills, carrying against his furry skin the small body of sleeping Mylan.

It was now dusk and they were half way through their journey back to the Manor. Usually, Thorin would have made the journey back in an afternoon, but his progress was slower with Mylan in his arms. He did not want to disturb her and he was not in any hurry to arrive, just enjoying the warmth of her body against his, relishing in the thought that she had chosen to come with him.

With the light quickly fading, they would have to stop for the night in the hills before resuming their progress to the Manor in the morning. Thorin knew these hills well. They were quiet, the nature and life there undisturbed thanks to the common belief that all the area surrounding Lake Evendim was haunted.

There was a stream and a cave nearby where they would be able to stop for the night.

As if sensing his pace was getting slower, Mylan started to wake up. Thorin was a little anxious that she would not remember what had happened earlier that afternoon and that she would scream to find herself thus clasped in the arms of a beast.

But she opened her eyes and yawned looking at him first and then at their surroundings. They were standing in front of a small cave carved inside the side of a hill and she could hear a stream nearby, softly chanting to her.

"Where are we?" she asked drowsily.

"In the hills. There's still three hours of walk to reach the Manor so we have to stop here for the night" he told her in his deep voice, with a hint of tenderness at seeing her so at ease in his arms.

"You've been carrying me all this time ?! this is unacceptable" she stated firmly as she climbed out of his arms on the floor.

Thorin could not help but feeling a little cold without her.

"You should have wakened me up..." she mumbled, slightly embarrassed "There, I can walk."

"I know you can" he said, amused "But night has fallen and it will get cold very soon, so we'll find shelter here" he pointed at the cave. "Spring is still young."

Mylan could feel it, the air turning chilly. She wore only her dress, made of thin linen.

She knew that the warmth she craved for was not the warmth of the sun, but his warmth that she had left just a few seconds ago.

"There's a stream just down there if you're thirsty" he pointed behind some bushes "I'll go find us something to eat."

And then, he was gone.

Mylan went to freshen up at the stream. She wanted to take off all her clothes and dive into the water to wash away Joffrey' scent and sweat off her body, but the water was too cold. She washed her face and the side of her shoulder where he had bitten her. The flesh was red where she had almost bled. Now, all that was left was an angry memory on her skin. She covered the mark with her dress and hair so that she would not see it, nor think about it.

Then, she went back up to the cave and started a fire with the twigs she had collected on her way back. It was turning quite cold and she was happy to have the heat of the flames to warm herself. All was quiet except for the creaking of the fire.

Mylan thought back on all that had happened to her in the last few months. Where was her life going now? Would her rescuer allow her to stay with him? For how long? Would her father search for her and bring her back home?

One thing she was sure of: she would never go back (willingly, that is) to Freton. Her father had been corrupted by Esther and her vicious son. He had almost married her to Joffrey without even telling her about it.

She thought she had a better relationship with her father, that he respected her and her wishes.

She thought he loved her more than that. And it hurt.

Joffrey had tried to abuse her. She remembered his foul stench, the feeling of his sweaty body crushing hers and she wanted to throw up. Now, she was shivering and without realizing it, she was crying and shaking.

That's how he found her a few minutes later, curled up in a ball, sobbing in front of the fire.

He wanted to comfort her, but that had never been his forte. She had lost everything, her life, all she had ever known, in the blink of an eye and he did not know what to say to her.

He too had lost everything at the Battle of the Five Armies.

He put down the two rabbits near the fire and sat next to her on a big rock, watching her.

Would she welcome his touch like she had in the field when he had saved her from this evil man?

Did she never want to be near a male again?

After a few minutes, she sniffed and composed herself a little, wiping her tears with the back of her small and white hand. Some strands of her red hair were glued to her cheek with the tears, and he yearned to but did not dare remove them. His large and hairy hand was terrifying, even to himself sometimes.

But as he looked at her again, Mylan seemed happy to see him. She came to seat next to him on the rock and put her hands forward to warm them up against the flames.

"I wanted to say... thank you... for saving me today" she told him honestly, after a few minutes of silence.

She was staring at him now, with her large brown eyes, slightly red and puffy, those eyes whose color he had imagined so many times. They now glittered, even more alive as they filled themselves with the flames of the fire, the brown and gold mingling.

Her eyes, the color of gold…

That thought brought back old and painful memories. Thorin felt suddenly horribly unworthy of her thanks, ashamed of himself and angry at her for staring at him.

He brought his hood back on his head so that it would cover the larger part of his horrible face, and grunted, averting his eyes:

"It's nothing."

Mylan frowned when she could not see his face anymore. She had imagined it so many times during the last few months that she did not want him to hide from her anymore.

But she feared to anger him, to hurt his feelings, so she just added:

"Well, thanks anyway."

There was another short silence between them, a silence both were anxious about but dared not break.

Thorin was skinning the rabbits and quickly put them to roast on the fire.

Mylan could not bear the silence anymore and launched herself into the pit.

"So, this is what you wanted to hide from me?" she asked firmly. "Your appearance?"

"Aye" he grunted once more, curling in his black cloak "It's a spectacle I want to spare anyone from seeing, if I can"

"What spectacle?" she asked.

He sighed and whispered angrily "The spectacle from my downfall. My punishment."

Mylan could feel the tension around the fire, in the small cave. She could almost feel his body growing tense and hard.

"I thought that dwarves were supposed to be hairy…" she told him, trying to lighten the mood.

This brought him out of his brooding for a few seconds, and he looked at her, his blue eyes wide and slightly accusatory.

"Dwarves aren't beasts" he told her harshly.

"I know" she smiled "I was just teasing you. Just know that I'm not frightened. I was surprised of course, but in your face I could immediately see a gentle and noble heart."

Her gentleness chased some of the coldness in his soul.

He nodded at her.

"And you're not a beast" she added firmly "The beast was that man you saved me from earlier. Being human has nothing to do with appearances" she stated her tone slightly bitter.

They ate in silence, and Mylan was soon feeling exhausted by all the emotions of the day. Thorin could see her yawning. He took off his cloak and put it on the ground for her to sleep on. There was no point in hiding now.

"There, you can sleep here" he told her "I will keep watch."

She lay down on his cloak and smiled at him as she whispered drowsily:

"One day, you'll have to tell me about this place you fell from."

He stared at her puzzled, his hairy face inquiring at her meaning.

"_Your downfal_l" she said, quoting his own words.

He frowned and stared into the fire once more, his mind lost on memories of his past life, of his failures, and all the suffering.

Hypnotized the creaking of the fire, Thorin's thoughts went back to his sister, Dis. Was she still in the Blue Mountains? Did she die of grief? The thought was breaking his heart.

And the members of his Company? His longtime friends, the sons of Fundin. And their burglar, the hobbit, whom he had misjudged so quickly. How he longed to know what had become of them all.

He had no right to disturb now the lives they were slowly rebuilding for themselves, he thought. Not after embarking them on his long, dangerous and selfish quest. They would not even recognize him.

No, he had no right at all to disturb their peace with selfish desires to see them again. He sighed, and wondered again for what purpose Yavanna had cursed him.

What was there to save in his stained and broken soul?

He thought back on the day that was slowly dying into another night. Had he been right to take Mylan back with him? She had asked him to, but would that make her happy?

Thorin then realized that he cared for her. And, even if he did not know it then, it was a first step on the path of self-absolution.

During the night, Mylan woke up suddenly, breathing hard. She stared at him but remained silent, her hand clutching her heart and her forehead sweating.

She must have had a nightmare, no doubt about her attacker.

Thorin silently sat next to her, and she instinctively put her head in his lap.

"Go back to sleep. You're safe now" he told her in his low voice.

But she could not for some time. She stared at the flames and felt the warmth of his body calming her slowly.

He saw that she was not asleep, but more relaxed and asked her eventually what he had been wondering about earlier.

"Echo? Is that my name?"

"Yes" she whispered.

"Why?"

"It's the first thing that came to my mind when I first heard your voice."

He nodded and she fell back to sleep eventually.

"Echo" he would then be to her.

The ring on Thorin's finger grew slightly lighter during that night, but he did not even realize it.

* * *

_**Okay, sad chapter, I know. Two broken souls with lots of issues... But they will comfort each other.**_

**_Reviews feel like when you come back from a hard day's work, and everything is quiet at home... :)_**

**_Please review !_**


	14. Chapter 14

_**A huge thanks to all the readers, reviewers and followers of this story :) **_

_**Here's another chapter, back in the Blue Mountains.**_

* * *

**Chapter 14: Worries and whispers**

_[Blue Mountains. Eriador]_

Dis was in such a rage she could tear the whole place apart.

She stormed into the Council room, a parchment clasped in her fist and addressed the members of the Council angrily:

"That great oaf!"

"My Lady…calm down" started Balin.

All the councilors were staring at the Princess with astonishment, and a little fear for some. Dwalin bore a small smile on his lips.

Dis sat violently, the legs of her chair creaking against the wooden floor in a disagreeable noise.

"He sends us a delegation!" she exclaimed, quoting "to _"set up the council and organize life in Ered Luin, as well as deciding of the importance of my contribution to the political decisions"_"!

King Dain was not known for his diplomacy, nor his tact…

"My contribution?!" Dis screeched. "What about _our_ contribution to reclaim for him the throne of Erebor on which he's currently seated with his fat ass?!"

That made many of the councilors present smile. The princess was known for her direct speeches.

"Our contribution in blood and sorrow…" she added, more quietly, and her eyes suddenly filled with tears. Her brother and sons had died to reclaim that throne, and she wished now more than ever that none of this had happened.

Dwalin started to rise to reach her side, to comfort her, but she surprised them all by banging her right hand loudly on the table. She tore apart the parchment in tiny pieces, and breathed hard. She would not break down, not now.

"Let them come. We'll give his delegation a royal welcome" she said, in a menacing voice.

"Aye, we'll try to reason with them…" sighed Balin "But out of the two cousins, I always thought that Thorin was the more reasonable of the two…"

"I hope it will not come to that" said Bofur carefully "but we are not on equal ground if Dain sends an army to regain control of Ered Luin."

"We reclaimed the Mountain and fought a dragon. Us! 13 dwarves and a hobbit" said Ori proudly, standing up. "I say we can fight any army that stands at our door."

The Ri Brothers had just returned from Erebor, slightly nauseated by how quick Dain had proclaimed himself King and stepped into Thorin's shoes, reclaiming for himself all the glory of the Quest.

Dori smiled at his younger brother's enthusiasm and added :

"But why won't he leave us alone? He's got Erebor now. Why would he care for Ered Luin?"

"He's greedy and full of pride" growled Dwalin "Wants to control everythin' ".

There was a silence as everyone was thinking of a way to get them out of this mess without causing unnecessary violence.

"What if I claimed the throne of Erebor? As a descendant of the line of Durin?" proposed Dis, his eyes glittering.

Balin shook his head: "It won't do Princess. Dain is a Durin himself, and he's male. Our laws dictate that the male gets the crown or the land before the female."

"Thank you for reminding me of the stupity of our ancestors" she retorted acidily.

Balin flinched slightly at her tone, but he had stated the truth.

"Not to mention, Dain has all the dwarves of the Iron Hills to support him…" added Dori with a frown.

"Dain will always fear that some other Durin will try to take back his stolen throne" said Dis sighing "We have difficult months ahead of us, my friends." They all nodded to her words.

"But I say, let the delegation come and we'll see what we can get. One issue at a time" she added, trying to lighten their spirits a little.

"Aye" they all said.

All they could do now was wait.

* * *

There was something magic about the way the stone walls sparkled under the lights of the candles. All was quiet. The mixture of silence, water and light soothed Dis's mind deeply.

She sighed and sank her shoulders inside the iron bathtub, leaving only her nose and eyes outside the water.

Dis was thinking about their situation. She did not want to enter into an open rebellion with Dain. Mahal knew there had been too much dwarven blood sacrificed already.

But she would never go live in Erebor. She did not even remember the place very well. She was so young when the dragon came and they had been forced to leave the Lonely Mountain.

She stood by what she had told Dwalin : she wanted to remember her sons and brother alive, and not bear the hurtful promiscuity of their graves. They would see each other again in the Halls of Waiting, but not yet.

For now, she had to focus on getting the dwarves of Ered Luin happy and safe, like Thorin would have wanted her to. It gave her a goal, a purpose and kept her away from gloomy thoughts. She was glad to work with the Company, Balin, Bofur… They were accomplishing something together, they were looking at the future, and it was a positive thought.

Dis stayed in the bath for a long time, until the hair on the top of her head started to dry, the tips still dipping in the water. She was slowly stroking the skin of her arms until she tingled all over, the waves of the water surrounding her like a safe haven of liquid warmth.

When her body felt so relaxed like this, Dis liked to think about Dwalin. His presence was like this bath: it comforted and excited her at the same time. It was something familiar, something sweet, something delightful.

She could not stop the tears from falling on her cheeks, disturbing the still surface of the bath. Dis felt awful for taking pleasure or happiness in anything. She was supposed to be in mourning for all her life, not find comfort at the thought of another man. She wanted to crawl inside the water and stay there until she stopped breathing and reached her beloved sons.

But she wanted as well to crawl inside Dwalin's strong arms and cry until she fell asleep against his chest.

What a mess she was…

* * *

As soon as he crossed the threshold, Bofur put a tankard of ale in Dwalin's hand with a smiling face.

"Come, have a pint" said the joyful dwarf.

Dwalin took a seat next to his older brother Balin and hugged him briefly with one arm. Dinner party at the Ur Brothers' was always a happy time.

"Dinner is almost ready" informed Linar, Bombur's wife as she sat on the other side of the big wooden table, a hand on her growing belly.

"Everything's going alright in there?" asked Balin with a smile, pointing at her.

"Kicking and keeping me from sleeping… nothing unusual so far for a baby dwarf" answered Linar with a tired smile.

"Bifur made some toys and a teddy bear for the child for when he'll come" said Bofur happily.

Bifur nodded at that and Linar thanked him warmly.

Bombur came from the kitchen with a huge pot of steaming stew. The smell was delicious and soon Bofur was handing everyone a plate.

They all chatted happily while eating, praising Bombur's skills.

"I'm so lucky to have a cook for a husband" said Linar, reaching up to kiss Bombur on the cheek "And with a child on the way, it's another good excuse for me to rest and do absolutely nothing" she added mischievously.

They all laughed and Bofur said: "Aye, let him do all the work for a while. He's already lucky to have you and all your kids".

"Mahal has blessed your family" added Dwalin with a nod.

"It's true that your amount of kids makes me think that you might have a Hobbit ancestor somewhere, Bombur" said Balin, his eyes twinkling.

They all toasted at that.

Dwalin was looking at Bombur and his wife and he was deep in thought. He was a warrior. Almost an old warrior.

Had there been a time in his life when he had wanted to start a family, to have a wife?

He knew it was quite late to start a family now. But he wanted to rest from his battles and, for the first time in forever, he did not want to be alone for the rest of his existence. He wanted to be with Dis, to take care of her, to love her, to sleep with her every night, to let everyone know how lucky he was to have her.

Linar noticed Dwalin's silence and asked him quietly:

"Was Dis feeling alright? She declined the invitation for tonight's dinner."

"Aye" answered Dwalin "Just a bit tired that's all."

"That's a lot to take for her: having to quarrel with Dain after enduring so much suffering this year" commented Balin.

"Maybe you should go check up on her after dinner…" suggested Linar innocently at the tall tattooed dwarf.

All eyes were on Dwalin. He stopped drinking his mug of ale and put it down slowly on the table before grunting:

"Why me?"

Balin and Bofur sighed loudly at the same time, and Bifur cursed in Khuzdul.

"Don't play dumb with us, you grumpy dwarf" said Bombur teasingly "We all know how you feel about her. It's time you do something about it."

"Aye, and not running off to another battle to escape your feelings" added Bofur with a disapproving nod.

Dwalin was grumbling about their non-sense, and turned toward his brother to get some support, but Balin was nodding and added in a final tone:

"They're right, you know. You wasted too much time already. You've been in love with the princess for YEARS".

Dwalin shoulders finally dropped, and defeated, he drank in tankard of ale in one gulp, before looking back at his friends, uncertain.

"But what if she doesn't want me?" he croaked in a unusually strained voice.

Linar rolled her eyes at him and threw her napkin at his face for being so stupid.

"You have nothing to fear about this matter" she affirmed "Now, go!"

Bofur got up and took Dwalin's arm to push him towards the door. The warrior took one look back on the threshold at his friends and was about to add something when they all yelled :

"GO!"

He then closed the door behind him and could hear them all laughing inside. He took one deep breath and took the direction of Dis's house, his heart thumping wildly in his chest.

* * *

_**Okay, sad Dis, friendly moments and a bit of fun at Dwalin's expense... I liked that.**_

_**The review is like decorating the top of your cake with little sugary hearts... Happy Valentine's day everyone ! :)**_

_**Please review ! :)**_


	15. Chapter 15

_**T****hank you so much for the lovely reviews ! You are great :)**_

_**There will be a little bit more angst for our two couples, but not too much. There will be comfort too in the coming chapters :)**_

_**Here's another (rather long for me ^^) chapter! The title is a reference to the Disney song from the movie "Beauty and the Beast"**_

_**Thank to all the readers, followers and reviewers ! :)  
**_

* * *

**Chapter 15: There may be something there that wasn't there before**

_[Evendim Manor]_

Thorin Oakenshield, the Exiled King of Erebor, Heir of Durin and hardened warrior was enjoying the comforts of a quiet and domestic life, and he was greatly surprised by it.

It had been a week now since he came back to the Manor with Mylan, and they had quickly settled in a routine that fitted both of them. She was taking care of the meals and laundry, sometimes gardening a bit. He was cleaning the house, gardening and hunting.

They did not agree on any rules, meal times or other obligations. They ate when they wanted to eat, got up when they awoke, went to bed when they were sleepy.

After a life filled with duties and obligations, Thorin was appeased by this simple existence. His current situation made him think about the quiet life of his burglar, Bilbo Baggins. How he had criticized and despised the comforts of the hobbit's home at first.

Now, he understood better the yearn for silence and plenty, and it did not make the dwarf feel better about himself.

Mylan had settled back in the room she had stayed in the first time she had been in Evendim Manor. She was keeping herself very busy at every time of the day.

Sometimes, she would take a stroll on the shores of the lake and tried to chase the sadness and bitterness away. She felt so betrayed by her father, so abandoned. Sometimes she would have nightmares about Joffrey and could never go back to sleep afterwards.

Echo was a daily comfort. He had taken her in, made her feel welcome.

Taking care of his house gave her a purpose, even if she would have liked that he let her take care of him as well.

But she was glad to be of some use nevertheless.

Echo did not belong to the talkative type. He often kept to himself but always came back to be with her at one time during the day. Sometimes they would not talk at all, just take comfort in each other's presence. They were living together now and this situation made them both happy.

* * *

It was a bright Spring afternoon and the air was not too chilly. Mylan decided to seat in the garden to mend a blanket. She was struggling carrying at the same time the chair, the blanket and her sewing kit, when suddenly the chair was lifted off her arm. Echo placed it in the garden, in a spot where the grass had dried underneath the rays of sunlight that pierced through the scattered clouds.

Mylan thanked him and settled down to her work. She expected him to go about his business as usual, but he sat on a nearby rock and stared at the lake with a thoughtful expression.

She did not say anything but was glad that he was staying by her side.

After a few minutes of silence, Mylan stopped mending the blanket and looked at Echo. He sat straight, his long dark hair flowing under the spring breeze, his eyes deep, his overall dark figure impressive, still almost as stone. The black hair on his forearms and face, as well as his slightly long teeth darkened the whole picture.

But he was not scary to Mylan. Echo was strong, proud, and sad. Mainly sad.

He seemed to realize that she was not sewing anymore because he turned his face towards her. She smiled at him, held his gaze for a while and turned back to her work.

It was Thorin's turn to watch her.

Mylan had a simple kind of beauty. Nothing was complicated about her features. She was a simple creature, yearning for some happiness in this world, after difficult times. Her simplicity was very refreshing.

Her small white feet were bare on the ground, and she was unconsciously spreading her toes between the blades of grass. Thorin found the movement strangely sensual and sweet.

"Aren't you cold?" he finally asked, concerned.

She looked up at him and then followed his gaze to her bare feet. She chuckled and hid them beneath the hem of her dress.

"No, I just did not realize I was barefoot" she answered blushing slightly. "Aren't you cold either?" she asked motioning to his bare large and hairy feet.

He frowned and shook his head. He hated his appearance that reminded him of his failures and tensed immediately.

Mylan sensed it and tried to lighten the mood.

"Look at us. A fine pair of hobbits" she said, smiling at him.

Thinking about hobbits made Thorin less angry, and he was almost smiling when he looked back at her.

Mylan burned with the need to ask him a thousand questions about himself, his past life, why he was cursed but she did not want to anger him and drive him away. She was terrified by the idea of him rejecting her, and not just because he had given her a home, but because she had come to care for him.

She had this warm feeling in her chest whenever she talked to him.

The blanket was now mended. Mylan looked satisfied at her work and went back to the house.

Thorin looked at her now empty chair and the same warmth engulfed him at the thought of her smile. As he brought back the chair inside the house, he wondered if there may be something there that wasn't there before.

* * *

The morning after, Thorin woke up to the sound of a soft voice singing downstairs, and the delicious smell of warm butter. He dressed and went downstairs to the kitchen to glance through the open door.

Mylan was baking some croissants. Some were already in the oven, spreading their sweet smell, and her delicate fingers were folding the dough to make some more.

She was very focused on her work and did not seem to realize that she was humming a children's lullaby as the same time. The picture was enchanting.

Thorin got inside the kitchen and she looked up.

"I hope I did not wake you up?" she asked, slightly frowning.

He thought it would be a delight to wake up every morning to the sound of her voice, but he did not tell her that. He just shook his head and gave her one of his rare smiles.

They spend the morning eating the croissants with tea and talking about various things.

Thorin realized how at ease Mylan seemed to be in his house now. She knew the place of each thing. What puzzled him more was how at ease she seemed to be around him. She was often touching him, his hand, his shoulder when she passed behind him to retrieve the sugar from a shelf, pressing herself against him and flooding his nose with her sweet scent.

That evening, Mylan came to the living room to seat near the fireplace with a book. She fell asleep in the armchair and Thorin carried her to her bed, like he had done the first time after she had fell off her pony.

When he put her down gently on the bed, she clung to his shirt for a second and whispered his name sleepily, her small fingers touching the black hair of his chest. Thorin shivered and quickly got out of her room, his breathing heavy.

There had been females in his life before. Short apparitions, never a wife, never a fiancée. It was not something he could allow himself to enjoy. The comforts of family were not for him. His duties had been his main concern.

Now he found himself troubled, an old beast of flesh and blood attracted to a young female of the race of Men. Everything was turned upside down.

He left the manor that night and walked in the woods for a long time to try to clear up his mind.

* * *

_[__Blue Mountains. Eriador]_

Dwalin had walked very quickly to Dis' house. He almost ran through the streets of the Blue Mountains, knowing his way by heart, following his passion.

Encouraged by the words of his friends, he felt lighter all of a sudden, but his stomach was tied with disagreeable spasms. He was afraid and he was thrilled at the same time. One thing was for sure : he would not stop now until he knew how Dis felt about him.

He arrived in front of the main door of her house, took a deep breath and knocked two times. Hard.

A few seconds after, the maid answered the door, her hand holding a rag and a glass. She was obviously washing the dishes. Dwalin then realized how late is was, and that him showing at the princess' door like that might seem quite improper.

Dis' maid did not turn him away. She smiled and opened the door wider for him to come inside.

"I do apologize for my intrusion" he started in a grumbling voice, trying to sound sorry but not wanting to leave either.

The maid was still smiling. She looked slightly sleepy. She walked back to the kitchen to put the now clean glass on the table.

He followed her.

"Dinner is over, but I can make you some eggs if you like" she told him gently in a tired voice.

"I already had dinner. Thank you" answered Dwalin.

"If you don't mind me askin', are you here to see the mistress?" she asked him, her eyes twinkling under the candle light.

Dwalin did not answer her and avoided her amused face. He felt like a kid with a hand caught in the cookie jar and he did not like it. He was warrior from the line of Durin. He did not need to explain his presence anywhere to some maid.

But at the same time, barging in late at night in a lady's house with no obvious reason was not an appropriate behavior, even for him.

The maid was tired, and she knew her mistress' heart. Dis would be happy to see him. She was always happy to see him. He was the only person that made her smile these days.

The maid opened a side door and beckoned Dwalin to follow him.

They walked through a dark corridor and arrived at Dis's bedchamber door. The maid pointed at the door and told him in a low voice:

"You can come in. She's waiting for you."

"She is?" he whispered in a strangled and surprised voice.

The maid turned to look at him one last time and answered in a quiet voice :

"Isn't she always?"

Dwalin blushed but the maid could not see him. She was already at the end of the corridor, and left him in the dark. He closed his eyes for a second and knocked quietly twice.

"Why do you knock?" asked Dis from inside the room, surprised that her maid was knocking "Come in"

Dwalin stepped into the bedroom and closed the door behind him. His heart was thumping madly in his chest now.

Dis had just come out of her bath and she sat lazily in an armchair in front of the fireplace, clad only in her bathrobe.

She was hypnotized by the sound of the fire cracking gently, but when she did not hear any movement in the room, she turned her head and saw him.

Her face showed surprise, but immediately after, happiness. She smiled and turned to face him completely.

As she did so, her bathrobe fell slightly on one side, revealing a white and delicate shoulder that drew Dwalin's eyes like a moth to a flame.

Her eyes. Her beauty. Her smile.

The happiness that shone from her face.

It was all too much for Dwalin. He kneeled at the feet of her chair, reached for her small hand and kissed it passionately.

* * *

_**Okay, I tried to keep this last scene simple, but I wanted some romance! ^^**_

_**Please review ! :)**_


	16. Chapter 16

_**Hello everyone! **_

_**Sorry for the long wait ! Real life is crazy these days and I've got lots on my mind... so it is difficult to write.**_

_**Here's another chapter with Thorin and Mylan. Thanks to all the followers, reviewers and readers ! :)**_

* * *

**Chapter 16: I'm holding on to you**

_[Evendim Manor]_

_Everything was dark and cold around. She could barely see her own surroundings: the trees were so many and closing in on her small form. She seemed to be walking on grass, but the ground was getting sticky with each step, fixing her feet firmly on the mud until she could not move anymore._

_The darkness was suffocating. She could feel the twigs and branches of the trees and bushes coming nearer grazing her skin all over. She had trouble breathing and sunk on the ground as her knees buried themselves in the muddy grass._

_She wanted to scream for help, and she did. But she had no voice in that desolated place. No one would hear her calls. She was all alone and shivering through all her limbs. She felt so helpless, so small, so insignificant…_

_Slowly, the touches of the twigs were replaced by those of rough fingers, the hands of a man painfully grasping her arms. She screamed louder this time, and that's when he heard her._

Upon hearing her anguish cries, Thorin woke up immediately, his whole body and mind ready for action, as it was and always would be after years of training and traveling through the wild.

He ran barefoot to her bedroom and opened the door loudly to find her crying and fighting the sheets of her bed, scattered all round her small shaking form.

He sat next to her and took her hands gently.

Mylan was breathing with difficulty, but when her eyes focused on her friend's hairy face, so familiar, so gentle and concerned, she calmed down a little. She tightened her grip on his hands, as if they were her anchor to reality.

Her anchor to a real world where she was safe.

"Bad dream?" he asked in his low voice, frowning.

She nodded, her eyes wide and fixed upon his face. She was staring at him with such intensity, such trust, that he felt something creak in his chest, something both exciting and scary, both unfamiliar and inviting. He knew the feeling : the craving for another person. He had felt it in his youth once or twice, before the firestorm doomed his fate.

Mylan closed her eyes and let the tears of terror fell on her cheeks. It was not her first nightmare where she remembered how Joffrey's attack had felt like. She did not want to cry. She did not want to live in fear. She wanted to become stronger after what she had experienced. But sometimes, the soul needs time to heal, and she had to accept it and break down first.

Thorin reached up to wipe away the tears on her left cheek with his large hand. How large his hand was compared to her petite frame, compared to everything about her that was delicate and small. Seeing his huge hands near her face, he was afraid on his own action, afraid to hurt her, to scare her, and began to back off.

But Mylan did not give him the time to pull away. She reached to grasp the collar of his shirt and clung to it, crushing her soft and wet face against the hair of his chest, her sobs louder now and heartbreaking.

Thorin clasped his arms around her back, surrounding her completely, stroking her gently. He tried to ignore the sadness and anger he felt at seeing her so broken, and the shivers that radiated all over his body at the feeling of her body and breath tingling his skin.

It was delicious, it was sad, it was confusing. Thorin did not know what to do, nor what to say so he just stayed and hugged her all through the night.

And that was exactly what she needed.

* * *

Mylan woke up feeling warm and safe, parts of her slightly sweating due to the unusual furnace that was her current bed partner. The sun was peering through the curtains, bathing the bedroom in a light shade of blue.

She barely moved, just an inch to be able to see Echo's sleeping face. He looked peaceful, so strong and nearer to her than he had even been before. Her head rested on his shoulder, his arms encircling her back, his fingers absent-mindedly resting on her hip in a possessive yet gentle grip.

Mylan loved the feeling of safety and warmth that came with being in his arms. He was not good looking by usual standards, even though he had amazing blue eyes. Echo had hair all over his skin, his feet and teeth larger than average, his brow dark, but she liked him. She liked him more than a friend. She felt her skin tingling and pressed herself further against his side, slightly blushing and thrilled at her own silent confession.

Maybe she was crazy, or under some spell, to fall for such a strange looking wild dwarf. Her feelings would seem unnatural to most, but she could not deny them. Beyond how he looked and his brooding moods, she cared for him.

Suddenly, she felt his body tense and he opened his eyes alert to their current situation. He immediately tried to disengage himself for her form, muttering excuses under his breath. Mylan felt his discomfort and got up happily.

"I'm going to make breakfast. It's going to be a beautiful day" she exclaimed opening the curtains, thus blinding Thorin and dissipating most of the awkwardness in the room.

She put on her slippers and a shawl on her shoulders. Before leaving the room, she posed at the door to look at him with a bright smile. She surprised him by rushing back to kiss him on the cheek whispering:

"Thank you for last night."

Thorin felt himself blush at the innuendo that could have been under such a statement. But he knew she was thanking him for comforting her and staying with her.

And then, she disappeared downstairs and he released a heavy sigh.

* * *

"I made crumpets" Mylan announced as Thorin came into the kitchen. She put a steaming mug of tea in front of him as he sat down, and put forward the rhubarb jam.

"I'm going to get as fat as Bombur, if you keep on like that" he said smiling at the fond memory.

He felt so at ease with her that he did not even realize that he had never told her about his past.

"The red dwarf from the Quest of Erebor?" she asked immediately curious, remembering the story she had told him when he got her back to Freton the first time.

Thorin cursed himself for being so relaxed, that he forgot all caution.

But what caution ? Why should he need to be cautious around her?

She trusted him. Why couldn't he return the favor?

Mylan was looking at him eagerly. She put down the plate of crumpets on the table and asked again:

"Did you knew him?"

"Aye" he answered simply.

She smiled and sighed at the same time, but surprised him with her next question:

"Are all dwarves not talkative like you?"

Her eyes were twinkling with teasing. She buttered one of the crumpets and bit into it, still waiting for more information.

"I was part of the Company that set out to reclaim the Lonely Mountain" he told her in a very abrupt and Thorinish way.

Mylan's crumpet fell down on the table (on the buttered side, of course) as she stared at him in shock.

It was very amusing for Thorin to watch Mylan's startled and excited expression as he told her about his past. When she tried to imagine which dwarf of the Company he was, he was surprised that she thought he was Bofur, because of his gentleness. She had said that though he had a warrior's body, he could not be Dwalin, because he was too gentle. She still pointed out that he was less funny than Bofur.

That was true.

Thorin was taken aback to see himself through her eyes. He did not recognize his own character. Had he changed so much in the past months?

Of course, Mylan couldn't not have imagined that he was the Exiled King, as she had heard like everyone, that he had fallen at the Battle of Five Armies.

The sun was setting on the hills around the Lake when Thorin finished the story of his life, which had been interrupted many times by Mylan's questions.

He felt strangely naked, exposing himself so. But he wanted her to trust him. He wanted her to stay.

For a few minutes now, she was silent and it made him edgy. They both sat in front of the fireplace on the big armchairs, facing each other.

"_ "Echo"_… what a stupid nickname, isn't it?" she finally said, giggling.

He did not answer but smiled at her. She was looking at him with a happy and caring face, as always. Her behavior toward him did not seem to have changed now that she knew he was Thorin Oakenshield.

"Are you sure that you were cursed by the Gods? Maybe you were just drunk?" she asked teasingly.

"And how do you explain this?" he asked her back falsely affronted, pointing at his face and big feet.

"I don't know. You're just a little hairy, that's all" she said laughing now.

Thorin huffed as she made fun of him, her laugh like a sweet music to his ears. There was another silence between them, and then she got up and sat next to him on the arm of his armchair, putting her arm around his large shoulders. The light was shining in her brown eyes, her redish hair surrounding her face like fire. Her gaze was determined as she asked him seriously now:

"So how do we lift this curse?"

Thorin sighed: "I do not know."

He started thinking. She wanted to help him. He had not even thought about how to lift the curse until now. He just thought he deserved it.

"Yvanna gave me this ring…" he remembered, looking at his finger.

"The stone is a beautiful shade of light blue" she noted.

"It's supposed to be darker…" he whispered frowning and inspecting the ring more closely.

"Is it a good thing? That it's lighter, I mean ?" she asked eagerly pressing herself against him.

"It is" he answered her, smiling. "A good omen."

* * *

_**The review is like the silence. Golden... :)**_

_**Please review!**_


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